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OLD  TONEY  AND  HIS  MASTER ; 


OB, 


THE  ABOLITIONIST  AND  THE  LAND-PIRATE. 


FOUNDED  ON  FACTS. 


A    TALE     OF    1824-1 


BY     DESMOS. 

138656 

NASHVILLE,  TENN. : 
SOUTHWESTERN    PUBLISHING    HOUSE, 

1SG1. 


*% 


i^-v^ 


TO   THE 

HON.     J.     D.     B.     DE    BOW, 

THIS    WORK    IS    MOST    AFFECTIONATELY 

JfnscribcH, 

AS    A    MEMORIAL    OF    TIIK 
AUTHOR'S  PERSONAL    REGARD  AND  GRATITUDE    FOR  MANY  FAVORS  CONFERRED  J 

AS   A   TESTIMONIAL    OF 

HIS    UNFLINCHING    PATRIOTISM,  HIS    STERN    INTEGRITY, 

HIS  UNTIRING  PERSEVERANCE  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES  APPALLING  TO  OTHERS  J 

HIS    NOBLE    AND    UNSELFISH    PHILANTHROPY  ; 

CUT,    ABOVE    ALL, 

HIS  MANLY  INDEPENDENCE,  AND  DEVOTION   TO   THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  SOUTH, 

WHOSE    INTERESTS    HE    HAS    SO    LONG    AND  SO 

FAITHFULLY   ADVOCATED. 

DESMOS. 


133658 


PREFACE. 


May  the  reading  of  these  pages  touch  the  heart  of 
the  reader,  as  the  writing  of  the  largest  portion  of  this 
work  touched  mine,  so  that  my  eyes  were  often  blinded 
by  my  tears.  And  the  reason  why  my  own  heart  was 
so  deeply  affected,  kind  reader,  is  because  the  facts 
herein  recorded  are  so  true,  and  so  near  home.  For 
there  is  scarcely  a  chapter  written  of  either  of  these  three 
books,  which  does  not  contain  a  great  fact.  The  whole 
book  is,  in  truth,  a  compilation  of  facts,  many  of  them 
disconnected,  it  is  true,  which  the  author  has  attempted 
to  interweave  as  artistically  as  the  delicate  nature  of 
the  circumstances  would  admit.  This  work  may,  there- 
fore, more  properly  be  considered  a  history  than  &  fiction. 

It  is  true  that  names  of  persons  and  places,  of  dates 
and  scenery,  have  all  been'  altered  or  suppressed,  for 
obvious  reasons,  but  these  alterations  do  not  affect  the 
value  of  the  truths  themselves,  nor  should  they,  because 
they  are  tangible  facts,  touch  less  deeply  the  reader's 
sympathetic  heart. 

Kind  reader,  bear  with  the  faults  of  the  work,  what- 
ever in  your  opinion  they  may  be,  and  look  only  at 
the  good  which  is  intended.  For  although  it  may  be 
regarded  as  an  attempt  to  represent  the  inner  life  of 

(vii) 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

the  slave  and  the  slaveholder,  and  the  infamous  char- 
acter of  some  or  most  of  those  who  have  operated  secretly 
at  the  South  as  engineers  upon  the  so-called  "  Under- 
ground Railroad/'  yet  the  author  has  had  a  higher  and 
a  grander  object,  that  of  representing  the  Christian's 
faith  in  times  of  tribulation  and  distress,  and  to  show 
that  God  "will  not  always  chide,  neither  will  He  keep 
his  anger  forever,"  but  He  "tempers  the  wind  to  the 
shorn  lamb."  It  strives  also  to  inculcate  the  truth 
that  God  is  his  avenger.  Why  then,  should  he  him- 
self seek  to  avenge  his  own  wrongs,  since  God  will 
"bring  him  out  of  all  his  troubles." 

As  a  politico-religious  work,  therefore,  I  lay  this 
book,  with  an  humble  heart,  but  a  hopeful  spirit,  as 
an  offering — the  one  part  upon  the  altar  of  my  country — ■ 
the  other,  upon  the  altar  of  my  God. 

DESMOS. 
Lawtonville,  April  10,  1860. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


BOOK  I . 

CHAPTER  I. 


Colonel  Shelton— His  character— Mrs.  Shelton— Ella  and  Langdon 
Shelton— The  Deer-hunt— Old  Toney— Sad  intelligence 13 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  bank-agent— Causes  of  Colonel  Shelton's  ruin— The  Rothschilds' 
agency  in  the  North 27 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  dinner-party— Colonel  Shelton's  determination  to  sell  off  his  large 
property,  all  but  Old  Toney  and  his  family— Old  Toney's  grief  and  his 
joy— Mr.  Herbert's  wooing  of  Ella  Shelton— Sudden  interruption 42 

CHAPTER  IV. 
LaiWon  Shelton's  departure  for  Savannah— Superstition  of  the  "salt- 
water" negro— His  impromptu  songs— Old  Toney's  narrative  of  the 
alligator,  and  his  narrow  escape— Arrival  at  Savannah— Langdon  goes 
to  Mr.  MePherson's— Mr.  McPherson's  prophecy 60 

CHAPTER  V. 

Lanscdon's  return— "The  Jasper  Spring"— Alarm— Old  Toney's  horse 
frightened,  and  running  away— His  return  to  the  spring— Signs  of 
blood— The  bloody  pool— His  grief  at  not  discovering  his  young  master 
—The  storm— Returns  to  the  city— Old  Bob— Mr.  Hartwell— The  hard 
constable— Old  Toney  sent  to  jail  unjustly— His  overwhelming  sorrow, 
and  his  returning  superstition 75 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Old  Bob  going  for  Colonel  Shelton— The  Colonel's  indignation— Arrival 
at  Savannah— Meeting  between  the  old  soldier  and  his  body  servant- 
Scene  in  the  jail— Old  Toney's  reflections  upon  his  unjust  treatment— 
His  prompt  liberation  by  Colonel  Shelton— Old  Toney's  farewell  to  the 
city  of  Savannah 89 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Colonel  Shelton's  new  home— Employments  and  comparative  enjoy- 
ments of  the  family— Ella  Shelton  looking  for  wild  flowers—Her  new 
acquaintance— Fetie,  the  blind  girl-Fetie'a  visit  to  El  a-Discovers i  a 

new  talent— Fetie  is  an  improvisatrice— Song  oi  the  blind  girl n 

1*  (ix) 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Fetieplays  an  impromptu  song — Impromptu  song  upon  the  harp — History 
of  the  song — Lucy's  little  infant — Ella  Shelton's  great  love  for  the  little 
slave,  whose  name  is  Little  Ella — Ella  Shelton  tries  to  paint  her  por- 
trait— Her  failure,  and  her  grief  at  seeing  the  infant  pining  away — 

Sends  for  a  portrait  painter — Arrival  of  Mr.  L ,  the  artist — Rapture 

and  rhapsodies  of  the  little  Frenchman,  who  fails  also — Death    of 
Little  Ella 112 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Little  Ella's  grave — Colonel  Shelton's  protracted  grief  and  failing  health 
— Insult  of  Mr.  Pollywog,  and  Colonel  Shelton's  treatment  of  him — 
Pollywog  is  restored  to  life  by  the  kind  attentions  of  Mrs.  Shelton  and 
her  daughter — Colonel  Shelton  found  by  the  roadside  by  his  daughter — 
His  great  prostration — His  gloomy  forebodings  and  premonitions. ...130 

CHAPTER  X. 

Colonel  Shelton  making  his  will  in  bed — He  prepares  for  his  last  battle — 
Old  Toney  taking  leave  of  his  dying  master — Singular  death — Mr. 
Thomas  Shelton  looking  through  the  pages  of  the  old  family  Bible..  15 2 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Fetie  at  the  harp  improvises  a  song  to  the  old  chieftain's  memory — Her 
surprise  and  agitation — Herbert  and  Ella  amazed  by  a  sudden  fall  in 
the  library — Old  Toney  found  in  convulsions — Colonel  Shelton's  fune- 
ral— Episcopal  service — Masonicburial — Old  Sampson's  funeral  service 
— Old  Toney's  comparison  of  the  three  modes  of  burial — Old  Toney's 
and  Old  Sampson's  separation  at  the  grave  of  Colonel  Shelton 164 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  friends  of  Mrs.  Shelton — The  Episcopal  clergyman — Reading  of  the 
will — Interrupted  by  Old  Toney — Old  Rinah  on  her  knees — They 
reject  their  freedom,  but  Old  Toney  accepts  the  gold  watch  and 
money — His  remarks  about  free  negroes — Mr.  Herbert's  departure  for 
Charleston 139 

BOOK   II. 

CHAPTER  I. 

The  Williston9  at  Washington — Hon.  Julius  Sanford — His  unfortunate 
love  and  its  consequences — Mr.  Sanford  insulted  by  Mr.  Williston  on 
the  floor  of  Congress — Calm  dignity  of  Mr.  Sanford 209 

CHAPTER  II. 

Mr.  Sanford  insulted  still  more  grossly  in  the  streets  of  Washington — The 
challenge — The  duel — Fatal  to  Mr.  Williston — Strange  conversion  of 
Mr.  Sanford  on  the  field  of  battle 232 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  State  of  Massachusetts — Alfred  Orton  as  aboot-black  in  college — Rev. 
Alfred  Orton,  the  Abolitionist — His  propensities 235 


CONTENTS.  Xi 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  lonely  widow — Alfred  Orton's  concubine — His  poor  wife — Little 
Johnny,  the  bastard — Treatment  of  him  by  Mrs.  Orton — Interference 
of  Irish  girl,  Margaret — Mr.  Orton's  subsequent  passion  and  cruelty  to 
little  Johnny — Puts  out  his  eye — Honest  indignation  of  the  Boston- 
ians 240 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  lonely  widow  again — Her  efforts  to  support  herself  and  little  Willie 
— Cold,  very  cold — Works  on  through  all  that  cold  night — Finishes  her 
work — Takes  it  to  the  tailor — Her  return  home  through  the  snow- 
storm— Met  by  Rev.  Alfred  Orton,  who  assists  her  home  with  her 
bundle — Orton  insults  the  widow  very  grossly — She  repels  his  advances 
as  an  empress — Alfred  Orton  slanders  the  widow — His  slanders  prove 
a  blessing . 225 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Sabbath-bells,  and  what  they  sing — The  widow  going  to  church — Her 
surprise  and  agitation — Mr.  Sanford  and  his  sermon — Great  excitement 
of  the  congregation,  but  especially  of  the  widow 269 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  widow's  sickness — Mr.  Sanford  meets  little  Willie  going  for  Dr. 
Boring — Meeting  between  Mr.  Sanford  and  Mrs.  Williston — Dr. 
Boring's  visit — Mr.  Sanford  marries  the  beautiful  young  widow.. ..283 


BOOK   III. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Old  Toney's  song — Surprised  by  Alfred  Orton — Old  Toney  surprises  him 
in  turn — Mr.  Orton's  horse — Old  Toney's  curiosity — His  love  of  a  fine 
horse — How  Orton  got  that  horse — The  horse-jockey  jockeyed — The 
Yankee  dentist — Old  Toney's  regrets  when  he  found  out  that  he  had 
insulted  a  preacher — The  negro's  reverence  for  a  minister  .of  the 
Gospel.. ,...., 297 

CHAPTER  II. 

Rev.  Alfred  Orton  at  Mrs.  Shelton's — His  proffered  insult  to  Ella  Shelton 
— Poisons  the  mind  of  Fanny  and  her  brother  George,  who  flee  with 
him  to  Philadelphia 312 

CHAPTER  III. 

Alfred  Orton,  no  longer  a  reverend,  lives  in  adultery  with  Fanny — 
Gambles  and  drinks — Pursued  by  Mrs.  Orton,  who  attempts  to  shoot 
him,  but  kills  herself — Fanny's  flight  into  the  eold  and  sleet — Fanny's 
death  in  the  portico  of  the  church  at  Philadelphia 320 


Xll  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Orton's  return  to  South  Carolina — Attempted  rape  baffled  by  sudden 
insanity  of  Ella  Shelton — Finding  of  Ella  Shelton  in  tbe  forest — Her 
singular  delusion — OldToney  pursues  Alfred  Orton  with  dogs — Catches 
him  at  the  house  of  Timothy  Follywog — Conference  as  to  what  disposal 
they  should  make  of  him — Timothy's  proposition  of  "tar  and  feathers  " 
— Young  Toney's  proposition  of  "  ducking  in  the  horse-pond  " — Old 
Toney's  plan  of  "  whipping  to  death  " — Arrival  of  George  from  Phila- 
delphia— George's  fourth  proposition — All  four  about  to  be  attempted 
— Arrival  of  Old  Sampson,  and  Orton's  release  by  the  African 
preacher 328 

CHAPTER  V. 

Mr.  Thomas  Shelton's  family  pride — Fetie's  grief — Strikes  against  the 
harp  accidentally — Her  surprise  and  terror — Mrs.  Shelton  almost 
heart-broken — Her  wonderful  self-control — Fetie's  surprise  at  feeling 
no  tears  upon  her  cheeks — Lucy's  insult  to  her  mistress  at  the  break- 
fast table — Mrs.  Shelton's  mild  rebuke,  and  its  effect 342 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Description  of  Stephen  Stevens,  the  robber-chieftain,  by  one  who  knew 
him — Death-bed  scene  of  Mrs.  Stevens,  the  wife  of  the  Land-Pirate. .351 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Mr.  Herbert  almost  a  maniac— Goes  to  Europe — Thinks  of  suicide- 
Return  home — Conversion  on  board  the  vessel — His  arrival  at  Phila- 
delphia— Visits  the  asylum — Restoration  of  Ella  Shelton — Her  own 
account  of  her  horrible'imaginations  during  her  insanity — The  super- 
intendent, and  Ella,  and  Herbert — All  upon  their  knees  together — 
Touching  and  interesting  picture  for  an  artist 359 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Ella  and  Herbert's  return  home— Sickness  of  Fetie,  who  has  been  adopted 
by  Mrs.  Shelton — Her  clairvoyance — Her  sudden  restoration  to  sight 
while  dying — Her  death  and  her  grave 309 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Alfred  Orton's  remorse — He  remembers  the  words  of  Old  Sampson — His 
■5UJeKie.__.nis  body  found  in  Lake  Michigan— Capture  of  the  Land- 
pjmtc— His  execution— The  author's  detestation  of  lynch  law,  but 
admits  its  propriety  in  this  particular  insta*nce--Argun_ents.... 379 

CONCLUSION. 

Willie  Williston  marries  Mr.  Herbert's  daughter— Love  for  the  Union, 
if  it  could  only  be  preserved  and  perpetuated  as  happily  as  was  that 
of  the  lovers— Old  Toney's  employment  in  his  old  age— He  has  not 
forgot  "  alligator  "—Death-bed  of  the  brave  old  negro— His  funeral — 
Tho  "  big  platoon  "  fired  over  his  grave— Joyous  return  of  the  soldiers 
— 'xh:  author's  hope  for  himself  and  his  readers 390 


OLD  TONEY  AND  HIS  MASTER; 


OR, 


THE  ABOLITIONIST  AND  THE  LAND  PIRATE. 


BOOK  I.— CHAPTER   I. 

HE  lamented  Colonel  Shelton  was  one  of  those  lordly 
Southern  planters  who  possessed  many  thousand  broad 
V  Lj^ftl  acres  of  fertile  land,  which  extended  not  for  miles  only, 
^cp  but  many  leagues  away;  and  who  counted  his  slaves 
not  by  tens,  nor  scores,  but  by  hundreds.  And  when 
I  use  the  term  "  lordly,"  I  mean  not  in  regard  to  wealth 
only.  I  have  reference  to  that  princely  generosity  and 
magnificence  which  characterizes  very  many  of  our  best  and 
noblest  spirits.  For  when  was  the  complaint  of  the  poor 
man  unheeded?  when  did  he  go  away  empty-handed  when 
his  necessities  demanded  relief?  what  agent  of  a  benevolent 
or  religious  society  ever  had  just  cause  of  complaint  against 
the  liberality  of  Colonel  Shelton?  "Is  the  object  of  your 
agency  a  worthy  one?"  was  the  only  inquiry  which  ever 
presented  itself  to  his  mind.  No  matter  if  the  agent  came 
from  the  North,  or  the  South,  or  the  East,  or  the  West ;  or 
even  if  he  had  crossed  the  broad  Atlantic  in  quest  of  pe- 
cuniary aid,  it  was  all  one  to  the  benevolent-hearted  Colo- 
nel, for  he  recognized  the  cosmopolitan  principle  that  man 

(13) 


14  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

is  the  same  everywhere,  and  his  wants  must  be  supplied. 
With  the  liberal  spirit  of  the  philanthropist,  he  lavished 
the  almost  countless  treasure  that  a  beneficent  Deity  had 
given  him  upon  all  alike  who  presented  their  petitions  to 
him.  While  upon  the  European  mendicant  he  bestowed  alms 
to  the  amount  of  five  or  ten  dollars  per  capita,  his  dona- 
tions to  colleges  and  to  church  edifices  were  as  high  as  ten, 
and  even  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

But  the  reader  is  not  to  suppose  that  Colonel  Shelton  was 
a  religious  man ;  at  least  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the 
term.  For,  while  he  was  charitable,  and  kind,  and  generous 
almost  to  a  fault,  he  had  never  attached  himself  to  any 
particular  denomination  of  Christians,  but  welcomed  them 
all  to  his  fireside,  while  upon  each  he  dispensed  his  favors 
with  a  bounteous  hand.  His  idea  was,  that  if  religion  be 
love,  then  it  would  be  unkind  and  unchristian  not  to  love  all 
who  professed  the  name  of  Christ ;  and  if  his  wishes  could 
have  been  gratified,  he  would  have  rejoiced  to  see  erected 
one  grand  and  glorious  temple,  like  that  at  Jerusalem  in 
its  character,  though  grander  in  its  proportions,  beneath 
which  all  the  followers  of  Christ  could  assemble  at  least 
once  a  year,  and  hold  an  annual  jubilee,  where  all  differences 
should  be  reconciled,  and  no  discord  nor  jarring  note  should 
be  heard  in  God's  Tabernacle  ! 

Colonel  Shelton  had  also  been  a  military  man  in  the  fullest 
sense  of  the  term.  His  was  no  honorary  title  bestowed  by 
some  governor  of  the  state,  or  purchased  by  a  hotly-con- 
tested election.  He  had  won  his  military  honors  by  hard 
blows  administered  upon  the  British  foe  in  the  memorable 
war  of  1812 ;  and,  in  other  contests,  had  fought  bravely  by 
the  side  of  that  gallant  chieftain,  General  Andrew  Jackson. 

But  although  his  eye  used  to  flash  and  flame  at  the  sounds 
of  battle,  and  his  strong  sword-arm  grew  red  to  the  elbow 
with  the  blood  of  his  country's  foes,  and  his  war-cry  was 
as  terrible  as  the  angry  thunder,  yet,  now  that  the  battle 
was  over,  and  peace  had  resumed  its  sway,  his  kindly  loving 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  15 

blue  eyes  were  as  gentle  as  the  dove's ;  while  his  voice  of 
encouragement  and  love  would  ever  draw  the  timid  to  his 
side,  and  make  the  innocent  prattler  run  joyously  to  seize 
his  hand,  or  climb  upon  his  knee.  And  where  was  the  poor, 
bruised  heart  and  broken  spirit  who  did  not  find  in  him  a 
kind  friend  who  could  sympathize  with  him  in  his  woe  and 

sorrows  ? 

If  the  reader  likes  the  character  of  Colonel  Shelton,  surely 
he  will  be  as  much  interested  in  his  family.     For,  among 
all  the  queenly  women  of  earth,  where  could  be  found  a  single 
one  more  queenly  in  her  native  dignity,  more  gentle  in  her 
deportment,  more  affable,  and  loving,  and  kind  in  her  dis- 
position, than   Mrs.  Shelton,  the  wife  and  noble  matron? 
Her  large,  black,  and  lustrous  eyes  would  swim  with  tears 
at  a  tale  of  distress  ;  and  when  her  noble  husband  had  given 
all  the  pecuniary  aid  which,  in  his  judgment,  he  thought 
the  circumstances  of  the  case  demanded,  she,  like  a  kind 
soul,  would   not   let  the   applicant  go  until  she  had  done 
something   herself   for    the    relief  of    suffering    humanity, 
or  the  advancement  of  God's  cause  throughout  the  earth. 
Her  private  purse  seemed  inexhaustible  ;  and,  as  her  husband 
used  jocularly  to  say,  "  She  mtfst  possess  a  gold  mine  some- 
where !   for  how  else  could  her  few  house-servants  at  their 
odd  moments  make  cotton  enough  to  produce  so  much  money  !" 
But  the  Colonel  well  knew,  nor  did  his  wife  attempt  to 
conceal  the  fact  from  him,  that  when  she  had  spent  all  the 
money  which  her  house-servants  had  made  from  the  rich 
cotton-patches  contiguous  to  the  house,  she  felt  that  it  was 
not  only  her  right,  but  her  duty,  to  take  from  the  common 
treasury  as  much  money  as  would  supply  her  deficiencies. 
But  her  "pin-money,"  amounting  usually  to  three  or  four 
hundred  dollars,  was  not  spent  upon  herself,  nor  lavished 
with  foolish  indulgence  upon  her  children.     Was  there  a 
poor  woman  dying  and  in  want  of  some  little  delicacy  ;  were 
there  orphan  children  who   needed  clothing  or  education, 
Mrs.  Shelton  did  not  wait  to  consult  her  husband,  but  was 


16  OLD    TONEY    AND   HIS    MASTER  J    OR, 

off  upon  her  errand  of  mercy  the  moment  the  cry  of  distress 
was  borne  to  her  ears. 

Nor  did  she  do  these  deeds  of  love  to  be  praised  by  men, 
or  stand  unrivaled  among  women  as  a  sister  of  charity.  In 
silence  and  alone  she  often  labored  in  the  cottage  of  the 
lowly ;  propping  up  the  head  of  the  dying  patient,  and 
preparing,  frequently  with  her  own  hands,  a  pot  of  gruel, 
when  there  was  no  one  present  capable  of  performing  cor- 
rectly the  menial  office. 

But  in  the  hut  as  well  as  in  the  palace,  she  seemed  ever 
the  same — an  angel  of  light  and  love,  dispensing  her  smiles 
upon  the  gay  and  the  happy,  and  shedding  copious  tears 
of  sympathy  with  the  sorrowful  and  distressed.  The  spirit, 
too,  which  actuated  her  charity,  was  that  inculcated  in  the 
Bible,  "  not  to  let  the  right  hand  know  what  the  left  hand 
doeth;"  thus  doing  her  alms  in  secret,  because  she  wished 
not  that  "  they  should  be  known  of  men,"  but  to  God  only. 
In  doing  so,  however,  her  secret  deeds  of  charity  became 
their  own  trumpeters ;  for  how  many  hearts  sent  up  their 
fervent  prayers  for  blessings  on  her  head  !  and  how  many 
tongues  longed  to  proclaim  to  the  whole  world  the  timely 
aid  which  her  sympathetic  Heart  had  brought  their  homes, 
and  had  made  happy  their  humble  firesides !  And  how 
many  a  strong  and  sturdy  yeoman,  a  thankful  husband,  or 
a  grateful  father,  has  felt  so  like  choking,  that  it  was  with 
difficulty  he  could  utter  a  "  God  bless  you,  madam  !''  as  she 
turned  away  from  his  cottage  to  enter  her  carriage  in  waiting, 
after  having  sat  all  night  by  the  bedside  of  the  poor,  bed- 
ridden wife,  or  the  dying  child. 

"  God  bless  you,  madam  !  may  you  never  want  a  friend  !" 
and,  "God  bless  you,  dear  Mrs.  Shelton  !"  was  heard  upon 
every  hand,  and  uttered  by  hundreds  of  grateful  hearts. 
"God  bless  you,  madam!"  was  echoed  by  the  woods,  and 
warbled  by  the  birds,  and  wafted  by  the  breeze,  as  incense 
to  the  throne  of  God!  "God  bless  you,  madam!" — the 
"God  bless  you"  of  the  poor,  and  the  miserable,  and  the 


TIIE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  17 

dying,  and  the  distressed,  was  the  sweetest  music  on  earth 
to  her.  It  soothed  her  wearied  spirit  to  slumber  ;  it  filled  her 
dreams  with  bright  visions  of  the  poor  in  glory,  encircled 
by  the  arms  of  Jesus ;  and  she  thought  in  her  wakeful 
moments,  "  If  he  said,  '  Blessed  are  the  poor,'  how  sweet 
it  is  to  have  their  blessing,  and  to  hear  their  sincere,  and 
so  oft-repeated,  '  God  bless  you  !'  uttered  in  prayer  for  her- 
self to  the  God  of  the  poor !" 

Nor  did  the  Colonel  ever  object  to  the  active  benevolence 
of  his  dear  wife,  of  whom  he  was  not  only  fond,  but  proud 
— yes,  proud  that  he  possessed  so  noble  a  wife,  "  whose  heart 
was  in  the  right  place,"  as  he  used  to  say  with  a  benignant 
smile;  "for  it  was  in  her  head!  and  when  the  heart  is  in 
the  head,  it  is  not  so  apt  to  be  led  astray  by  sinful  pas- 
sions." 

But  if  the  hearts  of  Colonel  Shclton  and  his  truly  adorable 
wife  were  made  happy  by  the  blessings  of  the  poor  and  the 
needy,  God  had  blessed  them  yet  more  in  the  love  and  de- 
votion of  their  children,  who  seemed  to  regard  their  parents 
as  something  more  than  human ;  and  to  whom  they  looked 
up  with  that  filial  adoration  which  is  so  rare,  and  yet  so 
lovely,  to  be  seen  in  any  of  the  rising  generation. 

If  Ella  was  their  beautiful  and  most  fragrant  rose,  which, 
growing  up  as  a  vine,  had  wound  its  tendrils  around  their 
hearts,  and,  like  the  perennial  ivy,  clung  every  day  with  still 
greater  tenacity  to  the  strong  hold  which  she  maintained 
upon  the  love  of  her  dear  father  and  mother,  Langdon,  their 
brave  and  chivalric  boy,  was  none  the  less  an  object  of 
admiration  and  respect,  as  the  young  and  graceful  sapling 
which  had  grown  from  the  acorn  cast  from  the  boughs  of  the 
noble  and  the  sturdy  old  oak  standing  in  grandeur  by  his 
side.  If  the  daughter  was  the  image  of  her  mother,  in  all  the 
refinement  of  her  heart  and  the  graces  of  her  person,  Langdon 
was  fashioned  after  no  meaner  mold,  and  stamped  with  an 
image  no  less  imperial  than  his  noble  father.  Like  his 
honored  sire,  honor  and  honesty  were  stamped  by  the  Deity 


s 


18  OLD  TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

in  broad  and  legible  characters  upon  a  brow  where  Truth 
sat  enthroned  in  all  her  majesty.  While  he  possessed  not 
a  rival  in  the  chase,  or  in  other  manly  sports,  and  while  his 
hand  was  "  as  steady  as  a  die,"  that  he  was  considered  a 
"dead  shot,"  yet  who  so  ready  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to 
a  fellow-companion  in  distress  ?  or  whose  heart  would  shrink 
more  from  inflicting  injury  upon  others? 

If  it  be  true  that,  as  a  general  rule,  Southern  youth  are 
humane  and  kind,  and  seem  to  vie  with  their  fathers  in  acts 
of  hospitality;  and  if  it  be  a  foul  slander  that  they  are 
recklessly  dissipated,  and  profligate,  and  abandoned,  pre- 
ferring the  midnight  brawl  and  the  dangers  and  heartless- 
ness  of  the  hateful  duello  to  the  quiet  enjoyments  of  the 
domestic  fireside,  and  the  generous  emulation  of  their  wor- 
thy sires  in  their  deeds  of  love  and  their  acts  of  humanity ; 
if,  among  the  many  worthy  associates  of  Langdon  Shelton — 
those  brave,  and  chivalric,  and  honorable  young  men — his 
noble  spirit  towered  above  them  all ;  while  his  acts  of  gen- 
erosity and  disinterested  benevolence  outstripped  them  all 
in  the  race  of  humanity  as  he  used  to  do  in  the  chase,  when 
his  splendid  steed  bore  his  impetuous  rider  far  away  over 
"brake  and  brier,"  leaving  his  companions  in  the  distance, 
as  he  met  the  stag  at  bay,  and  encountered,  single-handed 
and  alone,  the  monarch  of  our  Southern  forests ; — yet  there 
were  none  who  envied  his  superiority,  while  all  delighted 
to  do  him  honor. 

Langdon  Shelton  was  not  only  the  pride  of  his  father  and 
the  idol  of  his  mother,  but  the  admiration  of  all  who  knew 
him.  He  was  too  far  superior  to  all  his  associates  to  be  a 
subject  for  envy,  while  his  frank  and  loyal  countenance,  his 
magnanimous  acts  and  princely  favors,  had  drawn  to  his  side 
a  host  of  ardent  admirers.  If  he  had  a  foe,  he  knew  it  not; 
and  so  numerous  were  his  dgjpfcd  friends,  that  he  was  just 
the  brave  youth  and  impetuous  rider  to  head  a  troop  of 
gallant  spirits,  at  a  moment's  warning,  to  repel  invasion, 
whether  from  the  North  or  any  other  quarter.     As  to  insur- 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  19 

rection  —  a  servile  insurrection!  —  that  is  an  obsolete  idea, 
which  has  ceased  to  disturb  the  brains  or  agitate  the  hearts 
of  all  save  the  visionary,  or  the  cruel  and  the  wicked  !  Yes, 
the  day  has  long  since  passed  away.  There  was  a  time, 
long  ago  —  when  our  slaves  were  pure-blooded  Africans, 
fresh  from  their  native  desert,  and  wild  as  the  Bedouin ; 
when  they  were  not  yet  christianized,  humanized,  and  en- 
lightened,— when  apprehensions  of  an  occasional  outbreak 
were  felt,  and  when  caution  was  necessary  to  be  observed. 
But  that  day  has  passed ;  and  if  the  youth  of  our  land  are 
ever  called  to  arms  in  defense  of  their  homes  and  their  do- 
mestic altars,  it  will  not  be  to  repulse  the  attacks  of  the 
slave,  but  to  hang  with  a  halter  those  incendiaries  who  seek 
to  tamper  with  the  deep-rooted  affections  which  must  for- 
ever exist  between  the  master  and  his  bondman. 

Langdon  Shelton — 0  !  how  his  father  loved  the  boy,  just 
springing  into  the  dignity  of  manhood's  estate !  How  his 
mother  petted  and  tried  hard  to  spoil  her  darling — her  only 
boy !  How  his  companions  gloried  in  his  excellencies,  and 
tried  in  vain  to  rival  him  in  his  prowess;  his  skill  in  the 
use  of  fire-arms,  or  the  management  of  the  horse  !  How 
his  angelic  sister  looked  with  tenderest  love  upon  her  manly 
brother,  and  ever  welcomed  his  coming  with  one  of  those 
winning  smiles  that  caused  his  heart  to  leap  with  joy,  and 
made  it  bless  God  that  he  had  lived  to  feel  how  happy  he 
could  be  in  answering  the  greetings  of  the  fairest  and  love- 
liest of  sisters.  How  the  neighbors  praised  him ;  and  how 
the  young  and  lovely  maidens  smiled  at  his  approach ;  while 
the  hearts  of  many  beat  quicker,  and  their  cheeks  blushed 
deeper  red,  becoming  incarnadine  with  the  tell-tale  taint  of 
love,  as  he  saluted  them  with  the  graceful  ease  of  the  cour- 
tier, but  with  all  the  fervor  of  the  ardent  devotee  at  the 
shrine  of  youthful  beauty  arfcL  virgin  innocence !  But,  0 ! 
last,  not  least,  how  the  humble,  the  tried,  the  devoted  slave 
gloried  in  his  young  master.  How  great  his  homage ;  how 
unselfish  his  love !     He  could  have  kissed  the  ground  upon 


20  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

which  Langdon  trod,  and  licked  the  dust  from  his  feet, 
not  through  servile  fear — no,  no  ! — but  through  the  same 
spirit  of  adoration  with  which  he  would  have  licked  the  pol- 
luting dust  from  the  sandals  of  a  Divinity. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  masser  !  You  da  yourfarer  and  your 
murrer  own  chile!"  And  the  "  Glod  bless  you,  masser,"  of 
the  African  sounded  in  the  ears  of  young  Shelton  wherever 
he  went;  whether  at  his  own  home  or  the  homes  of  his 
companions.  For  is  it  not  true  that  another  man's  slave 
invariably  loves  his  fellow-slave's  master,  once  his  character 
is  established  for  goodness,  and  generosity,  and  genuine 
heroism?  For  there  is  a  spirit  of  chivalry  inherent  to  the 
African  as  well  as  to  the  white  man.  He  loves  and  worships 
heroism — the  heroism  of  the  white  man,  whom  he  regards 
as  a  superior  being  in  proportion  to  his  reverence  for  his 
character  for  goodness,  and  the  outward  signs  that  he  pos- 
sesses a  noble  soul.  He  loves  a  deed  of  daring  when  per- 
formed by  his  master,  and  looks  with  admiration  upon  him 
as  a  superior  genius  in  proportion  as  his  headlong  temerity 
makes  him  stand  aghast  with  consternation  at  what  he  re- 
gards as  invincibility  and  indomitable  courage.  He  imag- 
ines that  his  own  idolized  master,  backed  by  that  master's 
brave  friends,  could  not  only  conquer  all  his  foes,  be  they 
few  or  many,  and  come  from  whence  they  may,  but  that, 
single-handed  and  alone,  he  could  put  to  flight  a  host  with 
no  other  weapon  than  a  sling,  or  that  with  which  Samson 
routed  the  Philistines.  He  loves  to  feel  and  to  see  all  this, 
and  more,  in  his  master,  and  glories  in  him  as  "the  bravest 
of  the  brave;"  looking  with  the  same  kind  of  admiration, 
and  even  awe,  as  did  the  Cossacks  upon  Murat  when  he  rode 
up  to  their  very  front,  and  scattered  the  host  of  his  annoy- 
ing foes  with  the  simple  words,  "Disperse,  ye  reptiles!" 
But,  above  all,  the  African  slave  loves  generosity,  liberality, 
a  giving  spirit,  more  than  all  other  kind  of  spirits,  except, 
perhaps,  ardent  spirits.  The  man  who  pays  no  attention  to 
their  wants,  or  rebukes  their  begging  for  "a  piece  of  to- 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  21 

bakker,  masser!" — or,  if  he  does  not  himself  make  use  of 
''the  weed,"  fails  to  throw  to  the  wayside  beggar  a  sixpence 
or  a  half-dime  for  tobacco  money,  will  hold  no  place  in  his 
"heart  of  hearts,"  and  hear  no  "  Grod  bless  you,  masser!" 
ringing  in  his  ears  from  morning  until  night. 

No  wonder  that  Langdon  Shelton  was  so  popular  with  the 
negroes  of  the  neighborhood — his  father's,  as  also  every 
other  man's ;  for  it  was  his  invariable  rule  never  to  refuse, 
but  always  to  give,  often  unasked,  some  little  trifle — a  cigar, 
or  a  piece  of  tobacco,  or  a  "bon-bon,"  to  make  glad  the 
heart  of  the  faithful  negro. 

But  let  us  return  to  Colonel  Shelton,  around  whom  and 
his  family  the  interest  of  our  story  must  center  for  a  while, 
and  in  whose  fate  the  reader  must  already  feel  somewhat 
interested. 

A  man  of  wealth,  and  possessing  a  spirit  of  boundless 
liberality,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  should  have  kept  an 
open  house  for  the  free  entertainment  of  all  comers.  Sur- 
rounded by  all  the  comforts  and  elegancies  of  life,  with  a 
truly  palatial  residence,  and  numerous  domestics,  none  could 
better  afford  than  he  to  accommodate  the  wayfarer  and  the 
traveler,  without  charge ;  while,  of  all  the  hospitable  enter- 
tainers on  Carolina's  soil,  there  was  not  one  who  welcomed 
his  guests  with  more  cordiality,  or  who  possessed,  in  so  high 
a  degree,  the  art  of  making  his  visitors  feel  perfectly  at 
home.  Not  only  were  the  high  and  the  low,  the  rich  and 
the  poor,  the  learned  and  the  ignorant,  all  alike  made  wel- 
come by  the  hospitable  owner  of  the  mansion,  but  even  the 
servants  themselves  seemed  to  possess  the  spirit  of  accom- 
modation and  urbanity  which  characterized  their  master; 
and  the  case  was  unheard  of  when  the  stranger,  whether  on 
horseback  or  foot,  was  refused  a  night's  lodging  because  the 
house  was  too  crowded  and  there  was  no  more  any  room ! 
Indeed,  it  grew  into  a  proverb,  that  Colonel  Shelton's  house 
could  never  be  so  entirely  filled  up  that  not  another  guest 
could  find  a  lodging  bc**«ath  its  capacious  roof.     Whether 


22  OLD   TONEY    AND   HIS    MASTER  J    OR 

"prince  or  peddler,"  it  was  all  the  same.  The  welcome  of 
the  one,  if  more  cordial  than  that  extended  to  the  other, 
did  not  prevent  the  latter,  at  least,  from  enjoying  a  good 
bed.  nor  feasting  upon  the  very  fat  of  the  land. 

But,  at  the  present  time,  the  guests  assembled  at  the 
Colonel's  are  invited  for  a  special  object.  They  are  his 
neighbors  and  friends,  mostly,  who  have  gathered  for  the 
purpose  of  a  deer-hunt.  It  has  been  long  talked  of,  and  some 
have  even  come  from  the  city,  by  special  invitation ;  while 
there  are  a  few  volunteers  who  have  come  unasked,  but  are, 
nevertheless,  treated  by  the  Colonel  and  his  son  with  the 
same  kindness  and  courtesy  as  though  they  had  been  invited 
guests  and  princes  of  the  blood  royal.  Among  the  latter 
was  a  young  man  of  a  thick-set  and  very  muscular  frame ; 
possessing  a  bushy  head  of  black  hair  and  a  keen,  hawk's 
eye,  which  seemed  to  follow  you  wherever  you  went.  He 
was  dressed  in  a  genteel  suit  of  blue  cloth  with  brass  but- 
tons, then  fashionable,  with  long  spurs  upon  his  heels,  a 
hunter's  horn  and  powder-flask  around  his  neck.  He  had 
evidently  come  armed  and  equipped  for  the  hunt,  of  which 
he  had  heard  so  much ;  for  the  Colonel  had  numerous  deer 
within  his  fences,  which  had  kept  them  as  completely  as  if 
hemmed  in  by  a  stone  wall  or  a  park. 

There  were  several  others  who  had  come  of  their  own 
accord,  and  had  been  duly  acknowledged  as  members  of 
the  party.  But  this  particular  young  man  was  most  wel- 
come, although  uninvited,  because  he  was  a  bold  and  a  fear- 
less horseman,  and  a  splendid  shot.  The  brave  old  Colonel, 
who  had  been  trained  in  a  military  school,  loved  at  all  times 
to  see  a  bold  equestrian,  or  to  witness  a  splendid  shot;  but 
more  especially  in  the  chase,  when  some  of  the  warlike 
spirit  of  the  soldier  was  kindled  into  action  by  the  cry  of 
the  hounds,  the  shouts  of  men,  or  the  bugle-blasts  of  the 
hunter's  horn. 

The  reader  has  not,  perhaps,  discovered  anything,  save 
the  expression  of  the  eye  of  Stephen  Stevens,  who  afterward 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  23 

became  notorious  as  a  land-pirate,  and  suffered  upon  the 
gallows  for  the  double  crimes  of  murder  and  negro  stealing, 
oft  repeated,  and  of  which  he  made  confession  when  about 
to  die.  But  although  the  spirit  of  evil  was  inherent  to  his 
nature,  and  deadly  mischief  was  rife  within  his  heart,  he 
had  not  yet  been  guilty  of  any  crime  against  the  "  majesty  of 
the  law,"  either  overtly  or  secretly  committed.  His  oppor- 
tunity had  not  yet  come,  but  it  was  coming  soon,  and  would 
be  but  the  "beginning  of  the  end." 

We  will  not  attempt  to  describe  a  deer-hunt  at  the  South, 
which  in  no  respect  differs  from  a  deer-hunt  in  the  West, 
or  anywhere  else  where  the  deer  are  wild  and  fleet,  the  hounds 
fierce  and  bloodthirsty,  and  the  huntsmen  dashing,  adven- 
turous spirits.  Suffice  it  then,  to  say,  that  it  was  an  exciting 
and  a  successful  chase,  and  that  more  than  one  antlered  head 
was  laid  low  in  the  dust.  At  a  signal  from  the  Colonel,  who 
has  pulled  out  his  heavy  gold  watch,  the  driver,  who  beats 
the  bush  and  urges  on  the  hounds  with  his  lash,  which  he 
pops  with  peculiar  skill,  accompanied  by  cheering  words, 
which  the  Avell-trained  dogs  understand — the  driver,  with 
his  bugle  to  his  lips,  now  sounds  the  "return  home,"  or 
"recall,"  which  summons  the  scattered  party  to  the  central 
point.  It  is  time  now  to  convey  home  the  noble  game  which 
has  been  killed,  and  to  partake  of  that  sumptuous  repast 
which  has  been  prepared  with  no  illiberal  hand,  and  to  which 
the  entire  party  are  most  cordially  invited. 

They  had  traversed  but  half  the  distance  from  the  hunt- 
ing ground,  a  gay  and  a  merry  cavalcade,  when  their  merri- 
ment was  suddenly  suppressed  by  their  wonder  at  seeing  a 
messenger  approaching  at  a  rapid  gallop  from  the  direction 
of  the  Colonel's  residence.  He  was  a  black  man,  mounted 
upon  a  strong  horse,  taken  fresh  from  the  pasture.  The 
object  of  his  mission,  therefore,  must  be  one  of  urgency. 
As  he  pulls  off  his  black  velvet  cap,  he  reveals  a  head  of 
hair  which  rivals  in  its  whiteness  the  unspotted  snow;  and 
seems  more  like  freshly-ginned  cotton,  which  has  been  con- 


24  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

verted  into  a  wis;,  than  the  natural  covering;;  of  a  human 
being's  head.  He  bows  low  his  venerable  head,  even  to  his 
horse's  mane,  as  iie  salutes  his  adored  master  with  the  same 
kind  of  obeisance  which  an  officer  of  the  household  would 
make  before  an  Oriental  prince.  As  the  venerable  old  man, 
of  more  than  sixty  years,  raises  his  head,  and  looks  Colonel 
Shelton  in  the  face,  his  lip  trembles  slightly :  for  he  feels 
in  his  heart  that  he  is  the  bearer  of  sad  news,  although  he 
does  not  as  yet  know  what  is  precisely  the  nature  of  the 
intelligence  contained  in  the  note  which  he  slowly  and  sol- 
emnly withdraws  from  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat,  cut  in 
military  fashion,  which  he  has  taken  good  care  to  button 
up  to  his  chin.  As  he  is  engaged  in  leisurely  unbuttoning 
his  coat,  as  if  reluctant  to  bring  forth  the  dispatch,  sent 
in  haste  by  his  mistress,  the  Colonel  takes  occasion  to  re- 
mark : 

"  How  now,  Old  Toney !  I  thought  that  you  were  too  un- 
well to  join  in  the  hunt.  What  brings  you  hither  at  this 
time  ?  You  seem  as  solemn  as  though  you  had  just  come 
from  your  wife's  funeral.  Has  any  one  been  attacked  with 
sudden  illness  during  our  brief  absence?" 

"No,  my  dear  masser,"  replied  the  old  man,  with  a  long- 
drawn  sigh  ;  "  dey  is  all  well,  t'ank  G-od,  at  home.  But  dis 
note  from  my  missis,  dat  I  lef  at  home  a  cryin',  will  reveal 
to  your  comperhension  what  am  happened.  I  do  n't  know 
what  de  matter  egzackly  ;  but  I  'fraid  de  bank  is  broke,  or 
somet'ing  wuss  dan  dat !  for  a  young  man  is  come  all  de 
way  from  Charleston  to  see  you  on  puppose." 

While  Old  Toney — whose  only  employment  was  that  of 
looking  after  the  boys  who  attended  to  the  horses,  or,  in 
other  words,  chief  hostler — was  making  these  remarks,  Col- 
onel Shelton  had  read  the  few,  brief  lines  contained  in  the 
note,  which  he  crumpled  with  desperation  in  his  hand,  while 
he  uttered  a  deep,  deep  groan,  and  the  single  word  "  Ruined  !" 
which  was  spoken  almost  between  his  clenched  teeth,  so  that 
it  was  unheard  by  those  around  him.    His  friends  saw  enough, 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  25 

and  understood  enough  by  that  groan,  which  sounded  to 
their  ears  something  like  a  smothered  sob  ;  which,  taken  in 
connection  with  the  spasmodic  twitching  of  the  facial  muscles, 
revealed  the  intense  agony  which  had  rent  his  soul. 

They  were,  nearly  all  of  them,  his  sincere  and  devoted 
friends,  who  loved  him,  not  on  account  of  his  great  wealth, 
but  for  himself  alone  ;  for  the  many  noble  qualities  of  his 
head  and  heart.  Indeed,  several  of  that  company  were  near 
and  dear  relatives  ;  while,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three, 
all  were  allied,  in  some  way,  by  the  ties  of  consanguinity  or 
intermarriage  with  some  one  of  his  family,  of  whom  he  was 
the  acknowledged  chief;  and  something  akin  to  the  old  love 
and  veneration  of  a  Scottish  clan  for  its  venerated  chieftain 
characterized  the  feelings  of  those  who  followed  Colonel 
Shelton  in  silence  to  his  home. 

There  was  no  gay  laughter  now,  no  merry  joke,  nor  joy- 
ous hunter's  chorus.  In  solemn  silence,  as  a  funeral  pro- 
cession, or  a  band  of  soldiers  bearing  their  wounded  or  dead 
comrade  upon  a  litter,  they  followed  their  leader,  who  rode 
a  little  in  front,  with  his  head  bowed  and  his  eyes  upon  the 
ground.  A  single  time  he  reined  the  chestnut  stallion,  upon 
which  he  sat  usually  with  the  grace  and  attitude  of  a  hero, 
and  confronting  his  friends,  who  had  checked  their  horses 
also  so  suddenly  that  some  of  them  fell  back  upon  their 
haunches ;  then,  with  a  bitter  smile  so  unusual  to  him,  he 
said,  in  slow  and  measured  accents,  and  with  suppressed 
breath,  "  Gentlemen,  this  is  our  last  hunt  together !"  But 
in  a  moment  he  recollected  himself,  and  recovered  his  habit- 
ual self-control. 

His  friends  felt  that  there  was  an  awful  mystery  in  these 
words,  but  they  dared  not  question  him  as  to  the  significa- 
tion of  the  mission  which  he  had  so  lately  received.  They 
respected  his  grief  too  much,  whilo  their  innate  delicacy 
and  refinement  prevented  them  from  obtruding  upon  his 
secret  sorrows  by  useless  and  impertinent  questions.  They 
felt  that,  when  tho  tinio  came,  he  would,  of  his  own  acc<^rdj 
2 


26  OLD   TONEY   A¥D   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

consult  them  as  friends  and  advisers ;  or,  at  least,  reveal 
to  them  the  nature  of  his  sudden  calamity.  For  a  great 
and  heavy  calamity  they  well  knew  it  must  be ;  for,  other- 
wise, this  brave  old  soldier,  who  had  heard  the  war-whoop 
of  the  Seminole  in  the  everglades  and  forests  of  Florida, 
and  the  shouts  of  the  British  at  New  Orleans,  such  a  man 
would  not  be  so  deeply  moved  by  any  light  or  trifling  cir- 
cumstance. They  made  no  reply  to  the  words  which  he  had 
spoken  so  defiantly  and  with  so  much  bitterness ;  not  as  if 
addressed  to  them  so  much  as  to  some  invisible  fate  or  iron 
destiny,  which  he  feared  would  crush  him  with  its  weight. 
They  followed  him,  in  mournful  silence,  to  his  home,  and' 
entered  the  spacious  hall  two  by  two,  in  double  file,  as 
trained  soldiers  following  a  dead  comrade  to  his  last  rest- 
ing-place ;  or,  rather,  as  if  entering  his  home  to  look,  for 
the  last  time,  upon  the  face  of  the  dead,  and  then  to  bear 
him  away  in  his  coffin. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  27 


CHAPTER  II. 

$HEN  Colonel  Shclton  entered  the  large  hall  into 
which  his  guests  had  followed  him,  he  seemed  to 
recover  from  the  self-abandonment  and  abstraction 
into  which  he  had  allowed  himself  to  mil ;  and  re- 
assuming  his  old  style  of  urbanity,  and  with  a  bow 
and  a  smile,  he  bade  his  visitors  to  be  seated  and  make  them- 
selves at  home  until  his  return,  for  it  was  necessary  to  see 
a  o-entleman  from  Charleston,  who  was  then  awaiting  him  in 

the  library. 

"  Gentlemen,  pray  excuse  me  for  a  few  moments,  until  I 
have  attended  to  a  little  business  of  importance.  My  son 
Langdon  will  do  the  honors  of  the  house  during  my  absence 
from  the  room.  Langdon,  my  son,  see  that  the  gentlemen 
are  provided  with  everything  which  they  need* 

"  George  !  "  speaking  to  one  of  the  servants,  "  tell  the  but- 
ler to  hand  out  some  wine,  and  brandy,  also ;  and  be  sure 
that  the  gentlemen  are  provided  with  fresh  water  and  clean 
towels.  Excuse  me,  messieurs.  Au  revoir!"  and  bowing 
as  a  courtier  at  the  palace  of  the  Tuilleries  in  the  days  of 
Louis  XIV,  the  polite  old  Colonel  left  his  guests  in  charge 
of  his  son,  and,  perhaps,  what  many  of  them  liked  better 
still,  in  company  with  the  butler's  wines  and  French  brandy. 

But  the  reader  must  recollect  that  this  was  more  than 
thirty  years  ago,  when  it  was  the  fashion  of  the  day  for 
eyerybody,  no  matter  whether  layman  or  divine,  not  only 
to  invite^  but  to  insist  upon   all  alike  to  participate  in   "a 


28  OLD    TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

friendly  glass"  with  Ills  neighbor.  Indeed,  as  alcohol  had 
been  called,  by  a  celebrated  French  chemist,  the  elixir  of 
life,  the  "  aqua  vita*,"  by  which  the  lives  of  men  were  to  be 
lengthened  out  to  an  indefinite  period,  it  was  considered  in 
those  days  as  not  only  an  innocent,  but  a  very  necessary 
beverage,  and  regarded  even  by  medical  men  of  the  highest 
authority,  as  a  prophylactic,  or  preventive  against  diseases 
of  almost  every  form.  If  one  was  sick,  he  must  certainly 
drink  brandy  in  order  to  get  well ;  and  if  he  was  well,  it 
would  be  folly  to  get  sick  when  one  could  so  easily  keep  well 
by  a  little  timely  correction  of  any  unseen  or  unfelt  disorder. 
If  he  was  cold,  he  ought  to  take  a  little  "  to  warm  his  in- 
nards ;"  and  if  he  was  hot — burning  up  with  fever,  or  almost 
melted  by  the  sultry  heat  of  summer — then  there  was  no 
other  way  in  the  world ;  not  even  ice  was  supposed  to  be 
half  so  good  a  refrigerator  as  old  Cognac  or  Bordeaux,  etc. 
Indeed,  ice,  u  dry  so,"  without  the  addition  of  Cognac  or 
Monongahela,  was  condemned  as  a  promoter  of  cramps,  and 
decidedly  colicky. 

Some  of  my  readers  may  be  astonished  to  hear  that  their 
grandfathers,  and  even  grandmothers,  drank  so  much,  and 
yet  lived  long  enough  that  they,  or  their  fathers  and  moth- 
ers, should  ever  have  been  born  ?  And  their  dear  old  grand- 
mothers, too-!  Did  they  use  brandy?  Yes,  both  inside  and 
out!  They  rubbed  it  upon  their  bodies,  to  prevent  and 
cure  rheumatism  ;  they  rubbed  it  upon  their  faces  and  their 
children's  faces,  to  take  out  freckles  and  clean  oiF  the  tan ; 
they  rubbed  their  head  and  feet  when  they  got  wet;  and 
they  were  sure  to  saturate  the  hair  with  ardent  spirits  of 
some  sort,  when  there  was  any  hair-cutting.  And  upon 
each  and  every  occasion  when  they  rubbed  a  little  on,  they 
poured  a  little  in.  In  short,  never  was  there  a  little  baby 
born  in  those  days  that  ever  grew  fat  or  ceased  to  squall 
without  the  aid  of  brandy,  which  was  consumed,  in  eating 
and  drinking,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  And  when  we 
use  this  latter  doleful  expression,  we  do  not  mean  to  say 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    TIIE    LAND-MRATE.  29 

that  the  baby  never  grew  up  to  manhood's  estate,  nor  be- 
came old  enough  to  be  the  reader's  grandfather.  By  no 
means.  For  they  were  a  ruddy  and  a  hardy  race,  and  we 
are  told  that  there  were  fewer  downright  drunkards,  and 
fewer  cases  of  "delirium  tremens"  in  those  days — in  the 
olden  time — than  now.  The  reason  to  be  assigned  for  this 
is,  that  their  "liquors  were  a'purc  article,"  which  can  not 
be  obtained  now,  and  were  unadulterated  by  noxious  and 
most  deadly  drugs,  which  themselves  intoxicate,  and  produce 
death  in  so  many  different  ways. 

While  we  have  been  indulging  in  these  reflections,  so 
natural  to  the  occasion,  and  while  the  numerous  guests  of 
Colonel  Shelton  are  taking  their  brandy  or  their  wine  at  the 
sideboard  which  stands  in  the  hall,  and  then  quietly  falling 
back  and  betaking  themselves  to  their  ablutions,  so  neces- 
sary after  a.  day's  hunt,  the  Colonel  himself  is  engaged  in 
earnest  conversation  with  a  handsome  young  man,  who  has 
arrived  from  Charleston  as  a  special  envoy  from  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  bank  then  most  prominent  in  that  ancient  and 
honorable  city. 

Let  us  enter  the  library  also  with  the  Colonel,  and  con- 
ceal ourselves  behind  the  drapery  of  a  large  window,  that 
we  may  understand  the  nature  of  the  visit  which  has  brought 
this  confidential  agent  of  the  bank  so  unexpectedly  to  the 
peaceful  home  of  Colonel  Shelton. 

As  we  said  before,  he  was  a  handsome  young  man ;  and, 
judging  from  the  lines  of  thought  written  upon  his  brow, 
you  might  suppose  him  to  be  twenty-seven  or  eight,  or  even 
thirty.  But  he  was  much  younger — not  more  than  twenty- 
three  or  four — but  possessing  such  decided  abilities  that 
the  bank  regarded  him  as  one  of  its  ablest  officers.  He  was 
reclining  upon  a  sofa  when  Colonel  Shelton  entered  the 
chamber,  and  seemed  to  be  very  much  fatigued  by  the  se- 
vere horseback  journey  which  he  had  performed  in  haste 
over  a  rough  road ;  but  he  immediately  arose,  and,  with  a 
pleasant  smile  of  recognition,  extended  his  hand  to  grasp 


30  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

the  Colonel's  with  a  warm  and  fervid  pressure.  Nor  did  he 
release  his  hold  until  he  had  said,  "  I  bring  you  sad  news, 
Colonel!"  and  the  smile  vanished  as  his  lip  quivered,  and 
his  voice  trembled  with  emotion. 

"  I  have  received  a  hint  from  my  wife,"  replied  the  Colonel, 
with  perfect  composure,  "  that  my  friend  Johnson  has  failed, 
and  as  I  am  his  indorser  to  a  large  amount,  I  presume  you 
have  come  to  apprise  me  of  the  fact.  Is  it  not  so,  Mr.  Her- 
bert?" 

"Alas!"  replied  the  young  man,  in  a  tone  of  the  pro- 
foundest  melancholy.  "  You  must  be  prepared  for  the  worst, 
my  dear  Colonel  Shelton.  Not  only  has  Mr.  Johnson  failed, 
but  Mr.  Rivers  also ;  and  upon  both  their  paper  your  name 
stands  indorsed  for  large  amounts,  sufficient,  perhaps,  to 
sweep  away  your  entire  property,  unless  counter-arrange- 
ments can  be  effected." 

The  old  Colonel's  eyes  did  not  fill  with  tears,  nor  did  the 
muscles  of  his  face  quiver  or  twitch  convulsively  now.  His 
nerves  were  braced  up  for  the  issue,  and  his  heart  beat 
steadier,  as  the  danger  of  bankruptcy  began  to  stare  him 
in  the  face.  Just  as  in  the  time  of  battle,  when  the  whistle 
of  the  rifle-ball  and  the  music  of  the  cannon's  roar  began  to 
be  heard  loudest,  and  the  conflict  grew  hottest,  he  used  to 
straighten  himself  up  in  his  stirrups,  and  then  settle  him- 
self slowly  in  the  saddle  again,  ready  and  in  waiting  for  the 
coming  time  when  individual  action  and  personal  prowess 
should  be  necessary ;  or  as  the  sailor,  who  sees  the  storm- 
clouds  swooping  down  upon  him,  makes  ready  for  the  gale 
by  stripping  each  mast  and  every  spar  of  its  canvas,  while 
the  helmsman  lashes  himself  firmly  to  the  helm ;  so,  too, 
Colonel  Shelton  was  already  looking  the  storm -wind  of  ad- 
versity in  the  face,  and  making  preparation  in  his  mind  to 
meet  the  calamitous  events  which  had  burst  with  the  sud- 
denness of  a  thunder-storm  upon  him. 

His  composure  astonished  Mr.  Herbert,  who  looked  upon 
him  now  with  the  same  admiration  as  he  would  upon  a  hero  ; 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   TUB    LAND-PIRATE.  31 

but  more  especially  when  lie  heard  the  Colonel  coolly  re- 
mark, "  I  thank  God  it  is  no  worse !  and  I  only  hope  that 
my  property  will  sell  for  enough  to  meet  the  demand  against 
me.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Herbert,  and  help  me  to  make  a  few 
calculations  ;  they  can  all  be  made  in  a  few  moments.  Have 
you  an  accurate  memorandum  with  you  of  all  the  bills  likely 
to  be  protested,  or  which  have  already  fallen  due?" 

"I  have  them  all  here,"  was  the  reply  of  young  Herbert, 
who  drew  forth  a  large  leathern  pocket-book,  from  which 
he  abstracted  Colonel  Shelton's  account  current  and  a  mem- 
orandum of  his  liabilities  to  the  bank. 

"  The  president,  with  the  kindest  considerations  for  your 
welfare,  and  the  sincerest  sympathy  in  your  distresses,  dele- 
o-ated  me  not  only  to  condole  with  you,  but  to  offer  you  a 
reasonable  extension." 

»Iam  sincerely  obliged  to  the  president  for  his  kindness, 
Mr.  Herbert,"  replied  the  old  Colonel,  with  a  slight  quiver- 
ing of  his  voice,  "but  it  is  useless  — I  might  say,  mad- 
ness—for the  mariner  to  keep  his  sails  spread  when  his  bow 
is  turned  toward  the  rocky  shore,  and  his  keel  already  be- 
gins to  scrape  against  the  strand.  No,  sir ;  it  is  too  late  to 
'  'bout  ship '  now ;  and  to  put  on  more  canvas  would  only 
drive  the  poor  hull  harder  against  the  lee-shore,  and  splin- 
ter it  into  a  thousand  pieces,  and,  perhaps,  bring  desolation 
and  death  upon  others.  No,  sir;  if  I  must  sink,  let  me 
sink  alone.  If  I  must  break  to  pieces,  let  me  not  be  the 
cleans  of  breaking  others  also." 

"  I  honor  your  sentiments,  Colonel  Shelton !  Indeed, 
yours  is  the  very  reply  that  the  president  was  apprehensive 
you  would  make.  But  consider,  my  dear  sir,  a  moment ! 
Could  you  not  work  out  the  debt  in  the  course  of  time?" 

"  Nay,  nay  !  my  dear,  young  friend !  I  am  too  old  now 
to  begin  life  anew  !  I  would  only  involve  myself  deeper  and 
deeper  in  difficulties  from  which  my  children  could  never 
extricate  themselves.  I  feel  unwilling  to  involve  them  in 
my  troubles.     Far  better  that  they  should  start  the  world 


32  OLD    TONEY     tND    HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

poor,  and  without  any  show  of  wealth,  than  to  begin  life 
under  such  heavy  embarrassments  as  would  be  entailed  upon 
them  as  my  only  legacy.  I  shall  sell  my  property  to  the  best 
advantage,  and  if  there  shall  be  anything  left,  why,  then  it 
will  be  mine  and  theirs.  And  if  everything  shall  be  swept 
away,  I  can  then  feel  the  same  consolation  which  Henri 
Quatre  felt  when,  driven  a  wanderer  from  his  throne,  he 
exclaimed,   '  We  have  lost  all  but  our  honor'  ! ' 

Herbert  clasped  the  old  man's  hand  in  his,  and  bowing 
his  head  low  over  it  to  hide  his  emotion,  dropped  a  warm, 
fresh  tea**  upon  the  Colonel's  hand.  It  was  the  irrepressible 
feeling  of  a  generous  and  a  manly  soul ;  the  warm  gushing 
from  his  heart's  deep  fountain  of  affection  for  the  man  whose 
daughter  he  loved  with  the  idolatrous  love  of  idol-wor- 
ship. 

"Come,  Herbert!"  said  the  old  Colonel,  almost  gayly, 
"  let  us  to  business.  This  is  my  field-book,  and  on  the  first 
pages  are  recorded  all  the  names  of  my  slaves,  old  and 
young ;  and  here  are  plats  and  grants  which  will  tell  to  an 
acre  how  much  land  I  possess." 

He  drew  from  his  mahogany  secretary  a  large  field-book, 
in  which  he  kept  a  diary  of  all  his  farming  transactions, 
meteorological,  and  other  observations,  anything  and  every- 
thing worthy  of  comment  or  notice.  It  was  a  book  from 
which  the  scientific  man  would  have  gathered  much  valu- 
able information,  and  which  would  have  been  prized,  perhaps, 
even  at  the  Washington  or  Greenwich  Observatory.  Upon 
the  first  dozen  or  more  pages  had  been  recorded,  in  a  plain 
and  legible  hand,  the  names  and  ages  of  all  his  slaves  upon 
his  several  plantations.  These,  upon  being  counted  up  care- 
fully upon  each  page,  made  a  sum  total  of  about  five  hundred 
souls;  which,  valued  at  four  hundred  dollars  per  capita,  would 
make  the  sum  of  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  only.  But  the 
land  and  bank  stock  owned  by  Colonel  Shelton  would  make  the 
sum  amount  to  about  five  hundred  thousand  dollars.  This 
was  a  very  large  estate  in  those  days,  and  but  few  individuals 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  33 

could  lay  claim  to  so  much  landed  and  negro  property. 
But  as  large  as  it  was,  it  would  not  cover  all  of  Colonel 
Shelton's  present  indebtedness.  By  an  accurate  calculation, 
there  would  be  an  apparent  deficiency  of  fifty-six  thousand 
dollars !  This  seemed  to  worry  the  good  Colonel  more  than 
the  actual  loss,  at  one  fell  swoop,  of  more  than  a  half  million 
of  dollars.  But  he  was  relieved  from  his  embarrassment 
by  young  Herbert,  who  saw  his  distress,  although  he  had 
said  nothing. 

"  The  bank  has  received  from  Mr.  Johnson  sixty  thousand 
dollars,  as  the  proceeds  of  your  crop  this  year.  This  has 
been  placed  to  your  credit,  so  that  it  will  leave  you  a 
balance  of  four  thousand  dollars,  should  you  determine,  at 
all  hazards,  to  sell  immediately." 

Joy  now  lighted  up  Colonel  Shelton's  eye.  He  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  that  he  had  ever  sent  any  crop  to  market ; 
or  that  he  had  any  other  resource  whatever  than  his  land 
and  negroes. 

"  Then,"  said  Colonel  Shelton,  exultingly,  "  it  is  all  right. 
I  trust  that  my  dear  wife  and  children  will  help  me  to  bear 
the  loss,  since,  with  these  few  thousands,  we  can  retain  Old 
Toney  and  his  family.  Indeed,  my  dear  Herbert,  it  was  not 
so  much  the  loss  of  property  which  moved  me  so  when  I 
first  received  the  intelligence  of  poor  Johnson's  failure,  as 
the  heart-breaking  scenes  through  which  I  must  pass  in 
tearing  myself  away  from  my  servants,  who  love  me  more 
as  a  father  than  as  a  master,  and  for  whom  I  entertain  now, 
at  this  dreadful  moment,  a  feeling  more  akin  to  that  which 
binds  me  to  my  children  than  the  selfish  feelings  of  the 
master  to  his  slave.  But  I  thank  God  that  I  am  so  circum- 
stanced that  I  can  provide  for  them  all  good  and  pleasant 
homes,  and  kind  masters,  who,  perhaps,  will  treat  them  even 
better  than  I,  as  hard  as  I  have  striven  to  do.  Ah !  sir, 
once  before  I  had  to  pass  through  an  ordeal  something  like 
this.  It  was  when  I  left  the  army,  and  laid  down  the  sword, 
which  had  been  drawn  only  in  my  country 's  defense.     My 


34  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

brave  soldiers — those  veteran  warriors  who  had  fought  by 
my  side  in  many  a  bloody  contest,  and  whose  blood  had 
been  so  often  commingled  with  mine  that  we  grew  at  last 
to  be  like  kindred — were  all  drawn  up  in  line,  ready  to 
receive  their  discharge,  and  to  hear  my  farewell  adieus.  I 
attempted  to  speak  to  them,  but  I  could  not.  My  heart 
was  too  full,  and  my  tongue  could  not  utter  a  single  word. 
I  could  only  weep  and  sob  like  a  child,  as  I  leaned  upon 
my  blood-crusted  sword ;  and  was  forced  at  last  to  wave 
with  my  hand  the  farewell  which  my  lips  could  not  utter. 
Then  was  seen  such  a  sight  as  was,  perhaps,  never  witnessed 
before.  The  gray-headed  old  warrior  was  forced  to  sit  down 
upon  the  grass,  for  his  emotions  so  overcame  him  that  he 
had  no  power  to  stand  up  in  the  ranks ;  while  even  the 
younger  and  more  vigorous  spirits  were  bent  as  bulrushes 
before  the  storm  of  grief,  which  oppressed  them  so  that  they 
were  compelled  to  bear  heavily  upon  their  muskets  for  sup- 
port. There  was  not  a  dry  eye  either  among  the  officers  or 
the  men  in  my  regiment,  and  we  separated  as  brothers  in 
arms,  who  should  meet  no  more  in  this  world.  Such,  sir, 
was  the  sad  ordeal  through  which  I  was  destined  to  pass  at 
the  end  of  the  war;  and  sad  must  it  be  again  at  the  close 
of  my  pilgrimage  on  earth." 

Herbert  could  offer  no  word  of  sympathy  to  that  benevo- 
lent and  wounded  heart ;  for  he  was  a  Southern  man,  born 
and  raised  among  slaves,  and  hence  he  could  appreciate  the 
feelings  and  understand  the  endearing  ties  which  bind  to- 
gether the  master  and  his  slave.  He  well  knew  that  there 
was  no  other  feeling  which  could  outrival  this,  save  the  love 
of  the  husband  and  the  wife,  the  parent  and  the  child.  He 
knew  that  the  loving,  faithful  negro  would  lay  clown  his  life 
for  his  master  as  readily  as  the  brave  soldier  who  bares  his 
broad  chest  to  the  saber  thrust  which  is  aimed  at  his  gen- 
eral ;  and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  the  kind  and  affectionate 
master  would  not  only  defend  the  life  of  his  slave  at  all 
hazards,  but  sacrifice  great  things  for  his  comfort  and  hap- 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  35 

piness.  Herbert,  we  say,  knew  all  this,  and  more,  which 
the  purest  philanthropist  of  England  or  the  North  could 
never  know,  unless  he  had  been  "to  the  manor  born."  He 
held  his  peace,  therefore ;  for  he  had  no  sympathy  to  give, 
no  word  of  comfort  or  counsel  to  offer.  He  preserved  the 
same  kind  of  mournful  silence  which  men  maintain  when 
standing,  and  with  heads  uncovered  and  arms  folded  upon 
their  breast,  they  render  silent  honors  to  the  dead  heroes 
and  statesmen  who  are  lifeless  in  the  grave. 

But  the  silence  of  several  moments  was  interrupted  at 
length  by  Colonel  Shelton  himself,  who  asked,  in  a  mournful 
tone  : 

"But  tell  me,  Herbert,  about  my  poor  friend  Johnson. 
Poor  fellow !  The  blow  must  come  with  the  crushing,  des- 
olating force  of  an  avalanche  upon  him ;  for,  unlike  me, 
his  nerves  have  not  been  hardened  by  the  exercises  of  the 
camp,  and  blunted  by  the  rigors  and  sterner  duties  of  the 
soldier.  His  poor  and  helpless  wife,  also.  She  has  not 
been,  like  mine,  accustomed  to  witness  suffering  and  distress 
at  the  bedside  of  the  dying,  and  in  the  lowly  cabin  of  the 
poor,  or  the  home  of  the  negro.  Accustomed  to  the  fash- 
ionable life  of  a  city,  and  reared  from  the  very  cradle  in 
all  the  affluence  and  splendor  of  an  aristocratic  home ;  vain 
and  proud ;  must  she  not  sink  beneath  the  sudden  weight 
of  her  misfortunes?  From  the  bottom  of  my  soul  I  pity 
her,  and  lament  that  I  have  not  the  means  left  to  prevent 
her  from  feeling  too  keenly  the  sharp,  keen  pangs  of  pov- 
erty." 

Colonel  Shelton  groaned  audibly  at  the  picture  of  distress 
which  his  own  imagination  had  painted  and  held  up  in  bold 
relief  to  his  mind,  of  the  future  woes  and  sorrows  of  another. 
But  the  generous,  whole-souled  man  never  once  thought  of 
the  probability,  that  the  picture  he  had  di;awn  for  another 
might,  by  reversing  the  easel,  prove  a  likeness  of  himself, 
or  an  overshadowing  of  the  woes  in  reserve  for  the  cher- 
ished idols  of  his  heart. 


36  OLD    TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

"  But  I  have  not  asked  you,  Herbert,  how  it  came  about? 
How  have  poor  Johnson  &  Rivers  managed  to  fail?  For 
I  confess  that  I  had  indorsed  for  them  so  often,  in  return 
for  similar  favors — had  felt  so  certain  that  they  were  as  im- 
pregnable as  the  rock  of  Gibraltar — that  I  must  confess  to 
a  little  curiosity  concerning  the  manner  in  which  their  ruin 
has  been  effected.  Of  one  thing,  however,  I  feel  certain, 
that  their  honor  will  be  untouched,  and  that  the  foulest 
tongue  could  not  impeach  their  integrity,  or  malign  the 
rectitude  of  their  intentions." 

"  You  but  do  them  both  simple  justice,  my  dear  sir.  The 
merchants  of  Charleston  will  mourn  their  heavy  losses,  and 
weep  over  the  mercantile  ruin  of  men  who  have  stood  so 
long  among  us  as  beacon-lights  of  wisdom  and  sterling  in- 
tegrity, but  whose  lights  have  been  toppled  down  from  their 
perch  by  the  fierce  gales  of  this  financial  year.  Thus  far, 
sir,  it  has  never  been  the  case,  and  God  forbid  that  it  should 
ever  be  so,  that  the  finger  of  scorn  has  been  pointed  at  one 
of  Charleston's  noble  merchants  ;  nor  can  the  tongue  of  the 
foul-mouthed  calumniator  say,  '  He  has  failed  full-handed, 
and  at  the  expense  of  his  creditors.'  No,  sir  \  we  have  earned 
the  envious  title  of  hard-working,  honest  men,  and  we  hope 
ever  to  maintain  it." 

Colonel  Shelton  smiled  joyously  at  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
young  man,  but  he  did  not  interrupt  his  remarks  by  any 
ill-timed  phrase  or  exclamation  ;  and  Herbert  apologized 
for  not  having  answered  more  satisfactorily  the  question 
which  had  been  asked  him  in  regard  to  the  failure  of  Mr. 
Johnson,  in  whose  fate  Colonel  Shelton  seemed  most  deeply 
interested. 

"  Excuse  me,  Colonel,"  said  the  young  man,  "  for  not 
replying  to  your  inquiry  sooner.  But  we  Charlestonians 
are  all  so  deeply  interested  in  the  welfare  of  each  other, 
that  the  success  of  one  is  as  much  the  cause  of  general 
gratification,  as  the  ruin  of  another  never  fails  to  fling  a  gloom 
and  heartfelt  sorrow  over  the  entire  community.     We  are 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  37 

rivals  in  the  career  of  wealth  and  mercantile  glory;  but 
so  far  from  attempting  to  push  each  other  down  in  the 
race,  we  are  more  apt  to  help  each  other  on,  once  we  have 
fairly  got  ahead,  and  see  that  the  goal  is  won  for  our- 
selves." 

"  That  is  right  and  proper,  my  young  friend.  I  admire 
the  spirit  of  the  Charlcstonians.  I  regard  them  as  the 
noblest  race  of  merchants  on  earth.  Even  their  Jews  seem 
to  deal  fairly,  and  to  lose  their  peculiar  characteristic  in 
the  mercantile  atmosphere  of  Charleston.  But,  in  my  esti- 
mation, Johnson  stood  noblest  among  the  noble.  And  Rivers, 
too,  was  ever  ready  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to  the  young 
man  of  energy  and  promise." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  what  you  say  of  the  one  is  equally  true  of 
the  other.  They  were  both  honest,  honorable  men  ;  and 
when  they  failed,  they  lost  all  but  their  honor.  But  the 
causes  of  their  failure  have  been  the  result  of  a  train 
of  unforeseen  circumstances  and  casualties.  In  the  first 
place,  the  severe  storms  which  have  prevailed  this  year, 
and  which  will  make  the  year  1824  ever  memorable,  not 
only  on  account  of  the  great  destruction  of  the  cotton  crop, 
but  because  numerous  vessels  and  valuable  lives  have  been 
lost  upon  our  coast.  These  storms,  I  say,  have  been  the 
means  of  breaking  into  pieces  many  a  noble  house  in  Charles- 
ton, Savannah,  New  Orleans,  New  York,  and  Liverpool. 
Whole  fleets  of  vessels,  laden  with  cotton  for  Northern  and 
European  ports,  which  had  been  sent  out  by  Mr.  Johnson, 
and  Mr.  Rivers  also,  were  broken  into  a  thousand  fragments  ; 
some  upon  the  Florida  reefs,  some  upon  the  coast  off  Cape 
Hatteras,  while  others  were  dashed  to  pieces  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Bahamas.  These  heavy  shipwrecks  ruined,  of  course, 
many  of  our  stanehest  insurance  companies,  and  their  fail- 
ure to  refund  has  fallen  back  upon  the  buyers.  Mr.  John- 
son and  Mr.  Rivers  had  both  been  filling  immense  orders 
for  Northern  and  European  factories ;  and  some  of  these 
factories  failed   for  large    amounts    before  the   cotton  con- 


38  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

signed  to  them  could  possibly  have  reached  the  European 
markets.  But,  perhaps,  as  grand  a  cause  of  the  commercial 
disasters  which  have  only  begun  to  be  felt,  and  which  most, 
in  the  end,  scatter  ruin  and  havoc  broadcast  over  the  com- 
mercial world,  is  due  to  the  heartless  policy  of  the  Roths- 
childs, who  are  responsible,  to  a  vast  degree,  for  the  woes 
and  lamentations  which  will  be  soon  heard  rising  from  all 
parts  of  our  land.  They,  sir,  while  seated  in  their  easy 
arm-chair,  have  set  in  motion  the  ball  which  is  destined  to 
roll  on  and  on  with  increasing  velocity,  gathering  in  its 
weight,  and  increasing  to  immense  proportions,  until,  like 
a  mighty  avalanche,  it  shall  sweep  over  the  precipice,  and 
level  to  the  ground  many  a  fair  fabric  which  has  hitherto 
stood  upon  a  firm  basis,  and  withstood  the  shock  of  many 
a  desolating  crisis.  Yes,  sir,  I  repeat  it :  the  Rothschilds 
are  responsible  for  the  ruin  which  begins  to  stare  our  mer- 
chants in  the  face,  who,  as  yet,  have  seen  but  half  way  to 
the  end.  This  is,  in  my  conception,  but  the  beginning ; 
the  fearful  end  is  yet  to  come." 

"  You  surprise  me,  my  dear  Herbert,"  exclaimed  the  Col- 
onel, who  had  been  listening  with  great  interest  to  the  nar- 
rative, and  to  the  eloquent  tones  of  his  young  friend,  whom 
he  foresaw  would  occupy  a  prominent  position  before  the 
world  one  day,  if  no  unforeseen  misfortune  befell  him  to  cast 
a  cloud  over  his  prospects.  "How  has  all  this  happened? 
and  in  what  way  are  the  Rothschilds  so  deeply  responsible 
for  the  woe  and  distress  which  your  imagination  has  so  fear- 
fully depictured?" 

"  Why,  sir,  this  may  be  explained  to  your  satisfaction  in 
a  few  words.  Know,  then,  that  the  Rothschilds  had  agreed 
to  lend  to  the  Czar  of  Russia  from  three  to  five  millions 
of  money ;  whether  dollars  or  pounds  sterling  I  am  not 
prepared  to  say.  England  had  been  using  this  sum,  but 
had  determined  to  pay  it  back  as  soon  as  the  payment  be- 
came due,  without  asking  for  any  further  extension  of  time 
or  use  of  the  funds.     Indeed,  I  am  told,  that  on  account 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  39 

of  a  rupture  of  the  friendly  relations  which  had  previously 
existed  between  the  Rothschilds  and  the  English  minister, 
on  account  of  England's  jealousy  toward  Russia,  and  the 
consent  of  those  Jewish  arbiters  of  European  destiny  to 
lend  Russia  money  without  obtaining  first  the  consent  of 
England  to  the  transaction,  the  wrath  of  the  British  Lion 
had  become  so  aroused,  that  they  forced  back  the  money 
upon  the  Rothschilds  much  against  their  will,  although  they 
1  legged  and  entreated  that  it  should  be  retained  only  three 
months  longer.  '  Not  another  hour  ! '  exclaimed  the  minister, 
who  coolly  handed  them  a  check  upon  the  Bank  of  England 
for  the  whole  amount,  to  be  paid  in  gold  or  silver,  as  they 
might  desire  ;  '  not  another  hour !  England  is  poor,  very 
poor !  and  the  Czar  is  rich.  I  understand  that  contrary  to 
the  known,  if  not  expressed,  wishes  of  England,  you  have 
agreed  to  furnish  the  Emperor  of  all  the  Russias  this  very 
sum,  the  loan  to  take  place  within  three  months.  Send  it 
to  him  at  once.  England  needs  it  no  longer ! '  In  vain  did 
the  Rothschild  beg,  and  entreat,  and  whine.  In  vain  did 
he  wring  his  hands  and  say  he  had  no  use  for  the  money, 
which  would  lie  idle  upon  his  hands,  and  remain  dead  capital 
for  three  whole  months.  This  would  be  ruinous  !  It  would 
be  positively  a  waste  of  the  precious  metal,  which  would 
become  so  rusted  from  want  of  use  that  it  might  stick  forever 
to  their  fingers.  His  entreaties  were  all  in  vain.  England 
refused  positively  to  retain  the  money  any  longer,  and  Russia 
did  not  want  it  until  at  the  expiration  of  three  months.  In 
this  dilemma,  the  great  money-king  conceived  an  idea  of 
sending  a  half  score  or  more  of  agents  over  to  America, 
whose  instructions  were  to  buy  up  every  bale  of  cotton  they 
could  find,  and  hold  them  all  long  enough  to  induce  the 
belief  that  the  raw  material  was  not  only  in  great  demand 
in  Europe,  but  that  the  late  storms  had  cut  short  the  cotton 
crop  to  a  much  greater  extent  than  was  at  first  supposed. 
These  agents  stationed  themselves  incog,  at  New  Orleans, 
Mobile,  Charleston,  Savannah,  etc.,  and  in  a  little  while  had 


40  OLD   TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

all  the  cotton  which  had  been  brought  to  market  under  lock 
and  key  in  warehouses  rented  for  the  purpose,  and  which 
seemed  to  be  waiting  there  for  orders  for  shipment  to 
European  ports.  Not  the  slightest  suspicion  was  entertained 
of  any  unfairness  or  immoral  proceedings,  and  men  knew 
not  that  they  were  sleeping  over  a  volcano  which  would 
soon  burst  with  the  suddenness  of  a  bombshell  in  their 
midst!  The  result  was,  that  when  legitimate  orders  came 
for  supplies  of  cotton,  scarcely  a  bale  could  be  found ;  and 
the  article  which  seemed  to  be  so  scarce,  ran  up  from  fourteen 
to  thirty  cents.  I  am  told,  sir,  that  all  of  your  first  and  best 
cottons  were  sold,  at  the  opening  of  the  season,  at  from  thirteen 
to  fourteen  cents  per  pound  ;  while  a  few  bales  of  your  "  store 
cotton,"  which  was  filled  with  dirt  and  trash,  actually  was 
disposed  of  to  a  Northern  manufacturer  at  the  enormous  sum 
of  eighteen  to  twenty  cents.  But  look,  sir,  at  the  infamy 
of  these  wretches,  who,  because  they  possessed  the  power, 
determined  to  wield  it  secretly  to  the  utter  ruin  of  thousands 
of  honest  men  who  had  hitherto  prospered  among  us.  No 
sooner  had  they  established  those  fictitious  prices,  and  created 
this  false  demand,  than,  little  by  little,  they  let  out  their 
hidden  merchandise ;  and  as  soon  as  they  had  sold  their  last 
bale,  and  had  sucked,  as  vampires,  the  last  life-drop  from  our 
most  honored  merchants,  they  immediately  set  sail  for  Europe, 
laughing  in  their  sleeves  at  the  stupidity  of  the  Americans, 
who  could  be  so  easily  cheated  upon  their  own  ground,  and 
pocketing  with  glee  their  ill-gotten  gains.  It  was  the  most 
monstrous  piece  of  ingenious  rascality  which  has  ever  been 
practiced  upon  the  commercial  world,  and  merits  the  scorn 
and  eternal  indignation  of  generations  to  come." 

"Monstrous!"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  partaking  of  the 
indignation  which  seemed  to  burn  and  flash  from  the  eyes 
of  Herbert.  "  The  villains  ought  to  be  hung  !  But  come  ! 
There  is  the  dinner-bell.  My  friends  are  waiting  ;  and  you 
yourself  must  be  hungry  as  well  as  fatigued." 

Colonel  Shelton  passed  his  arm  through  that  of  Mr.  Her- 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  41 

bert  and  led  him  from  the  library  to  the  large  hall,  or  entranec- 
room,  in  which  the  numerous'  guests  were  still  assembled. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  Colonel,  "allow  me  to  introduce 
to  you  all  my  friend,  Mr.  Edgar  Herbert,  from  Charleston." 

The  gentlemen  all  rose  from  their  seats  simultaneously, 
and  most  of  them  came  forward  and  cordially  grasped  his 
hand  ;  some  expressing  their  regrets  that  he  had  not  arrived 
soon  enough  to  participate  in  the  day's  sport. 

"  Come,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Colonel,  after  the  salutations 
were  over,  "  come,  let  us  in  to  dinner,  which  is  full  late,  for 
the  sun  is  about  setting." 

The  old  Colonel  led  the  way  with  a  smile.  But  his 
countenance  became  suddenly  overcast,  and  a  cloud  of 
melancholy,  and  even  positive  distress,  settled  upon  his  brow 
as  he  entered  the  dining-saloon,  and  a  servant,  approaching, 
said  in  a  low  tone  : 

"Misses  beg  you  fur  \scuse  urn,  sah.  She  say  she  can't 
come  to  de  table,  'cause  she  got  a  berry  bad  headache ;  and 
Miss  Ella,  too,  sah.     She  got  headache,  too." 

"My  poor  wife  and  Ella!  what  will  become  of  them?" 
said  the  Colonel  to  himself  in  a  low  voice,  which  he  supposed 
no  other  ear  could  hear ;  while  a  groan,  but  ill-suppressed, 
escaped  from  his  anguished  heart. 

But  there  was  one  who  heard  that  groan,  though  he  may 
not  have  heard  all  the  words  which  had  been  employed  to 
express  the  deep  sorrow  which  was  flung  like  a  pall  over 
the  heart  of  the  old  soldier.  But  as  the  pall  is  removed 
from  the  coffin  only  that  the  coffin  may  be  placed  away  in 
the  grave,  thus  hiding  more  effectually  from  the  light  of  the 
sun  the  face  of  a  loved  one,  so,  also,  the  gloom  which  had 
begun  to  overshadow  the  soul  of  Colonel  Shelton  was  des- 
tined to  grow  deeper  and  deeper,  so  that  never  a  glad  smile 
should  rest  again  upon  those  finely-formed  lips  ;  and  the 
light  of  his  eye  should  grow  dimmer  and  dimmer,  until  he 
should  have  fought  his  last  battle  on  earth,  and  been 
conquered  by  the  grim  warrior,  Death  ! 


42  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 


CHAPTER  III. 

HE  party  which  surrounded  that  long  table  would  have 
been  a  convivial  one  had  not  their  spirits  been  depressed 
I^P  by  witnessing  the  sadness  which  sat  upon  the  features 
«?  of  their  host,  who  was  usually  so  cheerful  that  no  one 
could  feel  otherwise  than  happy  in  his  presence.  But 
how  could  they  be  gay  when  the  genial  smile  was  no  longer 
upon  the  lips  of  the  man  whom  they  loved  so  well  ?  They 
seemed  to  feel  that  in  his  unexplained,  and,  to  them,  unknown 
future,  there  was  a  sad,  a  dreadful  mystery,  which  both 
shocked  and  amazed  them.  They  were  not  the  men  who 
could  joke  or  laugh  aloud  in  the  presence  of  dead  hopes  and 
blasted  prospects.  As  soon  would  they  think  to  revel  in  a 
charnel-house,  or  to  laugh  and  to  sport  in  the  chamber  of 
death,  as  to  intrude  now  their  witticisms,  which  they  felt 
would  be  as  ill-timed  and  out  of  place  as  at  a  funeral. 
Save  the  occasional  clatter  of  a  knife  and  fork,  and  now  and 
then  some  casual  remark  addressed  to  a  neighbor  in  an 
undertone,  there  were  no  other  sounds  to  interrupt  the 
solemn  festival,  which,  so  far  from  being  like  a  carnival  of 
rejoicing,  was  rather  like  a  feast  among  the  dead.  Even 
the  well-trained  servants  moved  noiselessly  upon  tip-toe,  as 
if  afraid  to  disturb  the  thoughts  of  their  beloved  master, 
who  ate  his  meal  in  gloomy  abstraction,  as  if  unconscious 
that  he  was  seated  at  the  head  of  his  own  table,  and  sur- 
rounded by  numerous  guests,  all,  or  nearly  all,  anxious 
concerning;  his  welfare. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  43 

But  when  the  meal  was  ended,  and  the  cloth  removed 
from  the  table,  -the  Colonel  seemed  to  recover  from  his 
abstraction  almost  in  a  moment ;  and,  leaning  over  the  table, 
he  addressed  a  gentleman,  who,  judging  from  the  formation 
and  expression  of  his  features,  would  be  readily  taken  to 
be  a  near  relative. 

"Tom,"  said  the  Colonel — but  checking  himself  imme- 
diately, and  turning  his  eyes  upon  the  entire  company  as 
if  about  to  address  each  individual  separately,  he  added, 
11  Gentlemen,  I  am  not  ignorant  nor  unconscious  of  the  met 
— at  least  I  flatter  myself  that  you  all  feel  a  deep  interest 
in  my  welfare;  and  that  a  very  natural  curiosity  has  been 
excited  in  your  minds  in  regard  to  the  sudden  arrival  of 
Mr.  Herbert,  whom  I  believe  some  of  you  know  to  be  the 
confidential  agent  of  the  bank  at  Charleston.  Gentlemen, 
it  is  my  painful  duty  to  gratify  your  curiosity  now  in  a  few 
words.  By  certain  heavy  failures  in  Charleston  I  am  nearly, 
if  not  completely  ruined — hopelessly,  irretrievably  ruined!" 

"  Ruined  !  "  cried  several,  in  a  breath.  "  Impossible  !  you 
have  overestimated  your  losses,  Colonel." 

"  No,  my  dear  sirs  ;  the  case  is  too  plain.  Mr.  Herbert 
and  myself  have  already  carefully  made  all  the  calculations, 
and  we  hare  ascertained  that  it  will  take  all  my  property 
to  pay  off  the  notes  upon  which  my  name  has  been  indorsed, 
or  they  must  otherwise  be  protested,  and  my  name  become 
dishonored.  This  can  not,  shall  not  be.  For  my  own  honor's 
sake,  and  that  of  my  children,  I  must  sell  my  property  im- 
mediately, both  lands  and  negroes.  And  as  I  desire  you 
all  to  consider  yourselves  as  in  family  conclave  assembled, 
I  wish,  for  my  own  sake,  but  more  especially  for  the  happi- 
ness and  interest  of  my  poor  negroes" 

The  Colonel's  voice  here  faltered,  and  it  was  some  time 
before  he  could  proceed  further ;  but  he  recovered  his  out- 
ward composure  after  a  few  moments,  so  that  when  he  re- 
sumed his  remarks  a  careless  observer,  entering  the  room 
a  second  or  two  afterward,  would  never  have  supposed  that 


44  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

the  stern  old  soldier  had  been  nearly  overcome  by  his  emo- 
tions of  pity  and  of  love  toward  those  dependent  beings 
whom  God  and  Nature  had  placed  under  his  care  almost 
from  his  own  and  their  infancy.  None  but  those  who  have 
been  placed  in  similar  circumstances  can  tell  how  much 
effort  it  cost  even  a  veteran  soldier  to  choke  back  the  sobs 
which  well-ni2,'h  convulsed  his  frame. 

"  But,"  he  added,  after  a  pause  of  several  minutes,  unin- 
terrupted by  a  single  sound,  "  for  my  servants  I  feel  even 
more  than  for  myself  or  family  ;  for  we  can  bear  it  better. 
It  is  true,  I  know,  that  my  friends  at  this  table  are,  unitedly, 
able  to  buy  them  all ;  and  that  they  will  thus  be  provided 
with  good  and  kind  masters,  who  can  afford,  perhaps,  to 
treat  them  even  better  than  I  can  possibly  do.  In  the  hands 
of  either  one  of  my  relatives  I  feel  satisfied  that  their  phys- 
ical wants  will  be  attended  to,  and  they  will  lack  for  nothing. 
My  friends,  I  know  that  you  can  furnish  my  poor  slaves 
with  as  good  homes  as  the  laborers  upon  English  or  North- 
ern soil ;  and  it  is  not  from  any  apprehension  of  neglect  or 
ill-treatment — for  the  master's  interests,  aside  from  the  dic- 
tates of  humanity,  require  that  he  should  treat  his  slaves 
kindly — but  it  is  because  ties  of  long  standing  must  sud- 
denly be  ruptured ;  and  with  some  of  them,  I  fear,  it  will 
be  like  snapping  their  very  heart-strings  asunder.  And 
already  I  can  imagine  the  scene  of  woe,  and  hear  the  lam- 
entations which  will  soon  fill  the  air,  so  that  this  entire 
plantation  will  become  a  place  of  mourning,  where  there 
was  contentment  and  rejoicing  before.  God  have  mercy 
on  me  and  them,  and  enable  us  both  to  bear  the  separa- 
tion." 

Colonel  Shelton  could  no  longer  restrain  his  feelings; 
and  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands,  he  shook  as  an  aspen  leaf, 
and  became  so  convulsed  by  his  great  grief,  that  the  table 
fairly  shook  beneath  the  weight  of  his  elbows,  which  were 
pressed  hard  upon  it.  The  fountain  of  his  tears  had  burst 
forth ;  and  the  strong  man  of  iron  nerve  and  heroic  heart 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  45 

was  bowed  in  sorrow,  as  a  bulrush  is  bent  down  and  pressed 
hard  to  the  earth  by  the  blast  of  the  tornado. 

There  were  few  dry  eyes  in  that  company ;  but  one  of 
his  friends  brushed  hastily  away  his  flowing  tears,  and  re- 
marked : 

"  My  dear  Colonel,  this  may  be  all  needless  apprehension  ; 
and  I  trust  that,  after  all,  you  will  not  be  forced  to  so  sad 
an  alternative  as  the  sale  of  your  property.  Can  not  some 
arrangement  be  effected,  by  which  you  may  be  enabled,  in 
the  course  of  a  few  years,  to  pay  off  both  principal  and 
interest?" 

"  Alas  !  no.  I  am  too  old  now,  as  I  have  already  replied 
to  Mr.  Herbert,  who,  in  the  kindness  of  his  heart,  made  a 
similar  suggestion,  which  I  know  his  judgment  could  not 
approve.  No,  no,  my  friends  ;  I  am  resolved  to  sell  at  once. 
Excuse  the  weakness,  if  it  be  a  weakness,  which  I  exhibited 
just  now,  and  attribute  it  not  to  vain  regrets.  Come,  tell 
me  who  among  you  will  buy  my  property  at  the  market 
value?" 

"  If  you  are  determined  to  sell  immediately,  my  dear  Col- 
onel, I  will  buy  fifty  of  the  negroes,  and  land  in  propor- 
tion," said  his  cousin,  Mr.  Thomas  Shelton. 

"  And  you,  Walters,  must  purchase  at  least  one  hun- 
dred." 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  increase  the  number  of  my  slaves, 
Colonel  Shelton  ;  but  to  gratify  you  I  will  take  them,  and 
do  the  best  I  can  toward  them,"  was  the  reply  of  Mr. 
Walters. 

While  these  business  arrangements  are  being  effected  at 
the  Colonel's  table,  we  must  call  the  reader's  attention  to 
another  scene,  which  he  can  not  fully  comprehend  unless 
he  has  been  an  eye-witness  to  a  similar  one.  The  news  of 
Colonel  Shelton's  embarrassments,  and  his  sudden  determ- 
ination to  sell  his  property,  had  flown  like  wild-fire  through- 
out the  entire  plantation,  so  that  a  large  crowd  of  negroes 
had  already  collected  together  under  the  oak  trees  in  front 


46  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

of  the  house ;  while  the  entire  steps  and  front  piazza  were 
filled  with  anxious  servants,  who  had  come  in  haste  from 
their  quarters,  eager  to  know  the  worst,  and  to  hear  the 
truth  from  their  master's  own  lips,  if  it  were  possible  that 
their  "  own  dear  inasser  could  have  the  heart  to  sell  them 
to  anybody."  Old  men  stood  in  gloomy  silence,  with  arms 
folded  upon  their  breasts,  like  sable  princes  defeated  in 
battle,  and  forced  reluctantly  to  submit  to  their  destiny; 
while  old  women  sat  upon  the  steps,  or  upon  the  floor  of 
the  piazza,  rocking  their  bodies  to  and  fro,  moaning  most 
piteously.  It  was  hard,  very  hard,  for  servants  such  as 
these  to  give  their  kind  master  up.  The  younger  ones  could 
do  so  more  easily,  for  with  them  love  had  not  grown  into 
an  eternal  habit.  Impressions,  however  strong,  could  be 
more  easily  erased  from  their  elastic  minds,  and  their  pliant 
will  could  be  more  easily  molded  to  the  pleasure  or  caprices 
of  another  owner.  But  with  the  old  it  was  different.  Many 
of  them  had  ceased  to  labor  for  Colonel  Shelton,  and  were 
no  more  regarded  as  field  hands,  subsisting  entirely  upon 
his  bounty,  and  humored  to  the  gratification  of  almost  every 
whim ;  although,  had  they  lived  in  a  free  state,  necessity — 
want,  stem,  unrelenting  want,  a  harder  master  than  any 
Southern  planter  could  be — would  have  stared  them  in  the 
face,  with  constant,  imperious  look,  and  commanded  them, 
in  harsh  tones  and  taunting  words,  to  labor  or  to  die. 

"  You  are  not  too  old  to  work,  old  man — old  woman.  It 
is  a  shame  that  one  who  can  walk  as  erect  as  you,  who  are 
so  little  bent  with  age,  should  beg  for  your  daily  bread. 
Surely  you  can  do  something.  Go  and  work  for  your  liv- 
ing. It  is  a  thousand  pities  you  were  not  back  upon  a 
Southern  plantation,  or  in  the  heart  of  Africa.  Go.  I  love 
to  look  upon  a  free  man,  it  is  true,  but  I  despise  to  see  a 
beggar.  But  above  all  beggars,  I  despise  to  see  a  nigger, 
who  was  born  to  work,  holding  out  his  hand  for  alms.  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  and  feel  willing  to  die, 
rather,  with  your  hoe  in  your  hand."      Such  would  have 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE     LAND-PIRATE.  47 

been  the  conduct  of  many  of  the  pseudo-philanthropists  of 
the  North  and  England  toward  these  poor  old  men  and 
women,  who  said  themselves  that  they  were  too  old  to 
work,  and  had,  of  their  own  accord,  laid  down  the  hoe  and 
left  the  cotton-field  several  years  before.  Colonel  Shelton 
had  scolded  some  of  them  a  little,  while  at  others  he  was 
compelled  to  laugh  at  the  persistent  obstinacy  with  which 
they  declared  that  they  could  no  longer  endure  the  least 
labor ;  that  they  were  superannuated ;  worn  out  before  their 
time;  and  fit  for  nothing  more  than  to  sit,  with  clasped 
hands,  and  pray  that  their  "good,  blessed  masser  might  live 
a  thousand  years." 

They  were  old  men,  it  is  true ;  but  few  of  them  were  older 
than  Colonel  Shelton  himself.  They  had  grown  up  with 
him  from  boyhood ;  had  played  and  wrestled  together  a 
thousand  times ;  hunted,  fished,  ate  together,  and  even  had 
slept  side  by  side.  Not  from  a  plate  had  they  shared  the 
same  food,  but  from  an  earthen  vessel,  or  a  common  iron  pot, 
in  which  the  food  had  been  prepared.  Yes,  their  hands — 
the  one  as  black  as  the  ace  of  spades,  the  other  as  white  as 
snow — had  met  together,  and  had  touched,  in  brotherhood, 
in  the  same  dish ;  while  wearied  by  the  fatigues  of  a  coon 
hunt,  they  had  nodded,  when  boys,  around  the  camp-fire 
until  their  heads  had  touched — the  silky  ringlets  of  the 
aristocratic  son  of  an  aristocratic  father  had  touched  the 
woolly,  kinky  hair  of  the  African  boy. 

Does  the  author  exaggerate  in  the  least?  Will  not  many 
a  Southern  man  confirm  the  statement  that,  if  they  have 
had  no  such  experiences  of  their  own,  they  can  at  least 
remember  these  in  the  juvenile  history  of  some  of  their  old 
friends  and  acquaintances?  Many  can  testify  that  this  is 
no  fancy  sketch,  and  that  the  love  which  had  existed  from 
boyhood  between  Colonel  Shelton  and  his  old  negroes  is  not 
an  isolated  or  anomalous  fact. 

But  if  this  is  true  in  a  thousand  instances,  what  shall  we 
say  of  the  affection  which  existed  between  Colonel  Shelton 


48  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS  MASTER  ;    OR, 

and  Old  Toney.  It  was  like  the  love  of  foster-brothers  who 
had  tugged  at  the  same  paps,  and  had  drank  from  infancy 
at  the  same  fountain.  And  was  it  not  a  literal  fact?  Had 
not  Colonel  Shelton  nursed  from  the  breast  of  Toney's  black 
mother  ?  Had  they  not  gone  to  sleep  in  her  arms,  and  been 
rocked  in  the  same  cradle?  How,  then,  was  it  possible  to 
rupture  the  ties — ties  so  indissoluble — which  existed  between 
such  a  master  and  such  a  slave  ?  Could  all  the  John  Browns 
of  the  universe  bribe  or  force  the  one  to  do  aught  of  injury 
to  the  other  ?  Could  countless  thousands,  could  the  promise 
of  freedom — not  for  the  narrow  space  of  a  lifetime,  but  a 
liberty  which  should  last  through  eternal  ages,  seduce  Old 
Toney's  love,  or  tempt  him  to  commit  treason?  Let  future 
facts  in  Old  Toney's  history  answer  the  question.  And  when 
Old  Toney's  life  has  been  studied  and  his  true  character 
comprehended,  let  the  Northern  fanatic  understand  that  his 
case  is  a  complete  and  final  rebuke  to  his  fanaticism  ;  that 
his  voice  gathers  accumulative  strength,  and  grows  louder 
and  louder,  as  echoes  after  echoes  roll  upward  from  thou- 
sands and  myriads  of  faithful  slaves,  until  the  whispering 
voice  of  one  man,  a  slave,  has  swelled  into  the  awful  voice 
and  stern  rebuke  of  a  god. 

What !  men,  like  Old  Toney  take  up  arms  or  be  bribed 
to  commit  treason  against  the  master  whom  they  love? 
Sooner  far  would  they  hang  to  the  nearest  limb,  as  high  as 
Haman,  the  man  who  would  dare  to  insult  their  instincts 
with  such  a  proposition  !  Old  Toney  had  fought  by  the 
side  of  Colonel  Shelton,  and  had  done  brave  work  in  more 
battles  than  one.  He  had  been  his  kind  master's  body 
servant,  as  well  as  foster-brother,  from  boyhood.  In  Flor- 
ida, he  had  scalped  many  a  Seminole,  whose  scalps  he  still 
retained  and  exhibited  with  pride  to  the  "  rest  of  the  nig- 
gers," as  trophies  of  his  individual  prowess,  and  as  proofs 
that  he  was  not  afraid  of  the  red  man.  At  the  battle  of 
New  Orleans  he  had  headed  a  party  of  blacks,  who  charged 
the  British  so  impetuously,  and  with  such  savage  shouts  as 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  49 

did  the  Turcos  and  Zouaves  the  Austrians  in  the  late  Ital- 
ian war.  General  Jackson,  with  the  genius  of  a  Napoleon, 
knew  how  to  render  available  every  circumstance,  and  to 
adopt  every  means,  however  outre,  which  presented  itself  to 
his  hand.  His  purpose  was  to  conquer  the  enemy,  and  it 
was  immaterial  to  him  how^he  succeeded  in  his  designs, 
whether  by  the  sword  and  the  bayonet,  in  decency  and  mili- 
tary order,  or  pell-mell  and  "  rough  and  tumble,"  by  cot- 
ton-bags, or  the  "  niggers  "  who  had  made  the  cotton. 

But  the  victory  of  the  eighth  of  January  was  not  due  to  the 
protection  afforded  by  cotton  bales,  as  has  been  falsely  stated 
by  the  English  historians,  and  frequently  indorsed  by  Amer- 
can  writers  themselves.  How,  we  ask,  could  cotton-bags 
secure  a  victory  ?  They  might  serve  as  a  redoubt,  and  prove 
an  impregnable  wall  of  defense  against  the  bullets  of  the  foe, 
but  they  could  never  charge  upon  the  enemy  and  force  him 
to  retreat  to  the  water  and  fly  for  shelter  to  his  boats.  Old 
Toney  could  testify,  if  still  living,  that  he  himself  "had 
helped  to  lick  de  British  ;"  that  when  General  Jackson  placed 
arms  in  the  hands  of  the  slaves,  in  the  city  of  New  Orleans, 
he  himself  had  been  foremost  in  the  fight,  and  had  driven 
the  British  to  a  hasty  and  inglorious  flight. 

It  was  in  that  memorable  battle,  in  which  Old  Toney  had 
borne  himself  like  a  sable  hero,  that  the  faithful  old  servant 
had  lost  an  eye ;  it  was  his  left  eye ;  but  the  loss  of  the  one 
had  only  seemed  to  strengthen  the  vision  of  the  other.  It 
gave  to  his  countenance  a  peculiar  expression ;  a  kind  of 
wide-awake  cunning,  as  if  he  was  always  on  the  qui  vive. 
He  seemed  to  say,  in  plain  language  :  "  You  see  dis  eye 
shut  enty.  Nebber  mind  ;  I  can  open  'um  if  I  want  to  j  you 
better  look  sharp ;  I  no  'sleep.  'Fore  you  can  say  Jack 
Bobison,  dat  same  eye  will  open  and  scare  you  wid  his 
look,  same  as  he  scare  de  British  when  he  poke  his  bayonet 
into  'um,  'cause  I  make  'um  take  to  de  water  same  like  a 
mink." 

Poor  Old  Toney !     He  had  been  listening  at  the  door  of 
3 


50  OLD   IONEY   AND   HIS    MASTER  ;   OR, 

tlie  dinmg-rooni  to  the  conversation  which  passed  between 
his  master  and  his  guests.  He  had  heard  Colonel  Shelton 
say  that  it  would  take  all  of  his  property  to  pay  his  security 
debts ;  but  he  did  not  know  that  there  was  a  mental  reserv- 
ation of  himself  and  his  entire  family.  Old  Toney  groaned 
in  spirit  when  he  heard  that  single  word  all,  which  sounded 
to  his  ears  more  like  a  funeral  bell,  which,  though  struck 
with  the  faintest  touch  —  a  whisper  —  seems  to  peal  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  by  the  corpse  as  it  is  borne  onward  to 
the  grave.  Old  Toney  leaned  heavily  against  the  door-sill, 
and  pressed  his  hand  hard  upon  his  throbbing,  aching  heart. 
He  turned  away  mournfully  and  went  into  the  piazza,  where 
numerous  other  servants  were  assembled,  and  stood  still  for 
a  few  moments  among  them,  overcome  by  his  own  and  his 
fellow-servants'  great  and  overwhelming  sorrows.  Their 
mournings  sounded  like  the  requiem  which  the  dying  In- 
dian chief  sings  for  himself,  as  he  lies  down  to  die  alone  in 
the  forest,  and  gathers  the  dry  leaves  which  lie  scattered  in 
profusion  around  him  to  cover  up  his  war-scarred  body  from 
the  curious  eyes  of  men. 

But  Old  Toney  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  speak  to  his 
brethren  "a  word  of  comfort"  and  consolation  in  his  way. 
He  was  no  preacher,  but  he  had  often  exhorted  them,  at 
their  religious  meetings,  to  do  their  duty  as  faithful  serv- 
ants to  Grod  and  their  master.  But  now  he  moved  among 
them  as  a  priest,  scattering  incense  upon  the  right  hand  and 
on  the  left ;  heaving  aloft  his  smoking  chalice,  not  in  hope, 
but  in  despair ;  not  as  if  invoking  the  blessings  of  Heaven 
upon  his  people,  but  imprecating  the  wrath  of  an  offended 
Deity. 

"  Weep  on,  my  breddren  !  "  said  the  old  man ;  "  yes,  weep, 
till  your  tears  be  dry!  Weep,  till  your  heart  break  and 
bust  open !  for  you  got  no  masser  now !  Your  Masser  Shel- 
ton loss  to  you  now,  and  you  may  hang  all  your  harps  on  de 
willow,  same  like  de  Philistines  hang  dere's  at  the  Walley  ob 
Baca !     Weep  on,  weep  on,  my  childrens !     '  Let  your  woice 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  51 

be  heard  to  earth's  remotest  bounds!'  as  de  preacher  say. 
Cry  loud  and  long,  and  let  no  man  spare  himself!  Fly  to  de 
mountains  and  let  de  rocks  fall  upon  you  to  hide  you  from 
dat  great  and  dreadful  day  when  de  Son  ob  man  cometh !  " 
By  this  time,  Old  Toney  had  worked  himself  and  his  entire 
audience  into  a  SOTt  of  pin-easy,  half  natural,  half  religious. 
The  noise  had  become  so  loud  as  to  disturb  the  gentlemen 
in  the  house,  and  it  was  at  this  time  that  Colonel  Shelton 
had  sent  for  Old  Toney,  in  order  to  request  him  to  preserve 
order  in  the  piazza.  Old  Toney  had  approached  his  master 
from  behind  just  at  the  time  when  he  said: 

"  It  will  take  all  of  my  property,  except  Toney  and  his  wife, 
Old  llinah  and  their  children,  to  pay  the  demands  which  will 
soon  be  due.  I  can  retire  to  a  small  farm,  which  I  think  I 
can  buy  for  three  thousand  dollars,  which  lies  not  far  from 
here.  By  the  by,  Langdon,  you  must  start  early  in  the  morn- 
ing for  Georgia,  and  take  Old  Toney  with  you,  in  order  to 
receive  just  that  amount — three  thousand  dollars — which 
Mr.  McPherson  wrote  me,  some  time  since,  was  ready  for  me. 
With  this  amount  to  pay  down  for  a  farm,  by  industry  and 
economy,  Old  Toney  and  myself  can  manage  to  support  the 
family  in  a  plain  way,  I  hope.  I  am  not  ashamed,  gentle- 
men, to  work ;  and,  old  as  I  am,  I  feel  not  only  able  but  will- 
ing to  encounter  the  rigors  of  honest  'poverty.  Labor,  so  far 
from  being  a  curse,  in  my  estimation,  was  the  grandest 
blessing  conferred  upon  man.  '  To  earn  your  bread  by  the 
sweat  of  your  brow,'  instead  of  driving  men  to  despair, 
should  buoy  up  their  spirits  with  hope,  and  fill  their  minds 
with  victorious  energy.  Hard  work  brings  the  sweetest 
sleep  ;  a  sleep  sweeter  than  all  the  anodynes  of  earth  can 
give.  Labor!  I  can  assure  you  that,  so  far  from  despising, 
I  love  it.  It  dignifies  a  man  in  proportion  as  idleness  sinks 
him  into  degradation  and  contempt.  I  have  ever  loved  and 
respected  the  honest,  hard-working  man.  Indeed,  I  have 
labored  in  some  way  all  my  life;  I  have  worked  with  both 
brain  and  sinew.     But  I  can  assure  you  that,  while  the  brain 


52  OLD  TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

may  discover  treasures  and  rear  edifices  for  the  good  of 
others,  its  weariness  brings  no  sleep,  but  rather  wakefulness 
and  injury  to  health  and  happiness.  0  !  give  rne  the  sleep  of 
the  hard-working,  conscience-free,  independent  laborer,  who 
depends  on  Grod  alone  for  his  daily  bread,  and  feels  and 
believes  in  his  soul  that  'the  Lord  is  his  shepherd,  he  shall 
not  want.'  " 

Old  Toney  had  not  remained  long  enough  to  hear  all 
the  remarks  of  Colonel  Shelton  upon  the  dignity  of  man- 
ual or  bodily  labor.  He  had  heard  them  expressed  often 
before,  in  even  warmer  and  more  eloquent  terms.  They 
were  his  own  sentiments ;  for,  above  all  things,  he  de- 
spised "a  lazy  nigger;"  and  so  necessary  was  active,  vig- 
orous action  to  his  very  existence,  that  he  would  have  died 
from  dropsy  if  he  had  folded  his  arms  as  the  sluggard,  and 
refused  to  labor  any  longer  because  he  was  getting  old.  He 
must  he  doing  something.  Untold,  and  without  an  order,  he 
saw  not  only  to  the  horses,  in  his  capacity  of  chief  ostler, 
but  flogged  the  boys,  by  way  of  exercise,  if  they  neglected 
their  duties ;  especially  if  the  Colonel's  saddle-horse  was 
not  curried  as  clean  as  a  penny  and  rubbed  as  bright  as  "a 
spang  new  silber  dollar." 

If  his  mistress  wanted  a  tree  or  a  shrub  set  out,  or  re- 
moved from  one  place  to  another,  Old  Toney  felt  that  no 
one  could  perform  that  office  so  well  as  he  ;  for  if  "  a  com- 
mon nigger  "  did  it,  the  tree  was  sure  to  die  or  grow  crooked. 
He  felt,  therefore — had  always  felt  and  said  it,  but  now 
he  was  assured — that  he,  and  he  alone  of  all  the  host,  with 
his  entire  family,  would  still  be  retained  as  the  servants  of 
Colonel  Shelton ;  and  that,  with  Old  Rinah  and  all  her  chil- 
dren, they  would  constitute  a  small  but  happy  household  in 
some  quiet  nook.  Why,  then,  Old  Toney 's  joy  knew  no 
bounds;  and  then,  at  that  particular  moment,  he  felt  that 
Colonel  Shelton  could  no  more  do  without  him  than  he 
could  do  without  his  brave  old  master.  His  heart  beat 
stronger  than  it  had  done  a  few  moments  before.     His  eye, 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  53 

that  single  eye,  like  a  lone  star  set  in  the  blackest  azure, 
twinkled  with  brightest  luster.  His  step  grew  more  elastic, 
and  he  felt  some  of  his  old  Samson  strength — the  strength 
of  his  young  manhood  returning,  with  a  tingling  sensation  to 
his  muscles,  and  bracing  up  his  old  bones,  which  seemed,  just 
before,  ready  to  crumble  into  decay — he  stepped  forth  into 
the  piazza,  and  trod  upon  its  planks  no  more  like  a  solemn 
priest,  but  like  an  emperor  whose  autocrat  could  impose 
silence  upon  the  universe. 

"  Hush  up  your  cryin',  you  foolish  niggers  !  What  you  all 
cryin'  for  ?  I  tell  you  all,  you  is  only  worryin'  masser,  and 
doin'  yourself  no  good  !  Hush  up  dat  racket,  I  tell  you, 
or  I  '11  see  if  I  can't  mek  you  cry  for  someting  on  turrer 
side  ob  your  face  !  " 

But  just  then  Old  Toney  seemed  to  remember  that  he  had 
not  only  encouraged,  but  ordered  them  to  weep  and  to  howl 
until  their  lamentations  should  be  heard  to  earth's  remotest 
bounds.  It  was  with  a  show  of  leniency,  therefore,  that  he 
added,  in  condoling  tones  : 

"  I  is  berry  sorry  to  part  wid  you,  my  breddren  and 
friends — berry  sorry,  indeed.  But  circumstance  to  cases, 
observation  to  consequence.  Weep  not,  my  breddren  ;  weep 
not  as  dose  who  hab  no  hope.  You  will  see  your  ole  masser 
and  missis  berry  often.  I  do  n't  tink  ary  one  ob  you  will 
be  more  nor  ten  mile,  or  mebbe  fifteen  mile,  from  my  house. 
You  can  come  to  see  me  whenebber  you  wants  to  ;  always 
berry  glad  to  see  my  old  fellow-scrbants  ;  and  I  berry  sure 
my  ole  masser  will  nebber  dribe  you  from  his  door,  and  say, 
'  Go  'long,  you  good  for  nuttin'  ting  !  you  black  nigger  !  you 
only  come  fur  tief ! '  No,  no.  My  masser  and  me  is  all  both 
above  dat.  Den  hush  up,  my  friends,  and  dry  your  eyes, 
and  let  us  all  sing  dat  good  ole  hymn  so  suitable  fur  dis 
wecpin'  and  wailin'  occasion  : 

"  '  When  I  can  read  my  title  clear, 
To  mansions  in  de  skies, 
I  '11  bid  farewell  to  ebbry  fear, 
And  wipe  my  vredpln'  eyes.'" 


54  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

Then  was  heard  music  which  few  in  this  world  have  been 
privileged  to  hear.    We  have  heard  your  grand  concerts  at 
the  North,  and  some  of  the  greatest  musicians  which  Europe 
has  sent  to  our  shores,  but  the  music  of  more  than  a  hundred 
voices,  in  perfect  unison,  of  those  dark  sons  and  daughters 
of  Africa,  as  it  rose  upon  the  stillness  of  the  night  air,  while 
it  was  louder  than  the  tallest,  grandest  organ,  was  sweeter 
than  the  sweetest-toned  harp  ever  touched  by  the  hand  of 
the  most  skillful  master.     0  !   that  was  music  worth  a  pil- 
grimage to  hear  !     It  was  the  voice  of  nature  blended  with 
the  most  cultivated,  sweetest  tones  of  art ;  untaught  by  any 
master  musician,  they  were,  nevertheless,  a  well-trained  band. 
With  no  gamut  or  music-scale  learned  by  rote  and  squalled 
aloud  with  the  jarring  discord  of  cracked  reeds,  these  poor, 
grief-smitten,  music-loving  people,  in  their  simple  melodies, 
their  plaintive  airs,  their  wailing  requiems,  stand  unrivaled 
by  any  other  people  on  earth.     The  music  of  the  Indian  is 
monotonous — the  song  of  the  African  is  the  song  of  poetry 
and  pathos.     Very  many   of  them  are   improvisators,   and 
express  impromptu,  by  sweet  sounds,  the  feelings  and  varying 
emotions  of  their  souls.     And   now,  upon  this  particular 
occasion,  the  deep  bass  tones,  like  the  swell  of  the  organ, 
in  perfect  unison  with  the  flute-like  notes  of  the  women — 
the  tenor,  the  alto,  the  treble,  and  the  bass  often  heard  upon 
different  octaves,  but  all  in  perfect  accord  ;  causing  one  to 
compare  it  in  his  imagination  to  the   song  which   rolls  up 
unceasingly  from  the  angelic  choir.     Who,  we  ask,  could 
refuse  to  listen?     Who  would  stop  his  ears?     Who  could 
fail  to  be  enraptured  at  such  melody  as  this  ? 

Herbert  could  not  resist  its  influence.  Although  accus- 
tomed to  the  boasted  musical  soirees  of  Charleston  ;  although 
he  had  heard  the  finest  soprano  and  contralto  voices  which 
had  ever  floated  upon  the  air  of  his  native  city,  he  thought 
within  himself  that  he  had  never  in  his  life  heard  music 
before.  He  rose  from  the  table,  and  passing  through  the 
parlor  beyond  the  hall,  stepped  out  into  a  small  veranda 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-riRATE.  55 

which  locked  out  upon  the  scene.  He  stood  with  arms 
folded  upon  his  chest  and  listened  with  rapt  attention 
until  the  music  ceased.  Then  he  could  not  resist  the 
impulse  to  exclaim  with  enthusiasm,  "Grand!  glorious!" 
lie  hdard  a  half-suppressed  sigh  at  his  side.  He  started 
and  turned  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and  saw 
Ella  Shelton  standing  by  a  column  alone  in  the  moonlight. 
She  had  been  weeping,  and  a  stray  moonbeam  which  glanced 
through  the  foliage  of  a  large  old  oak-tree  reflected  upon 
her  pale  cheek,  and  caused  the  tears,  as  they  flowed  from 
her  eyes,  to  glisten  and  glitter  like  so  many  rolling,  liquid 
diamonds. 

"  Pardon  my  intrusion,  my  dear  Miss  Shelton  !"  exclaimed 
the  young  man,  as  he  extended  his  hand  cordially  to  the 
beautiful  girl,  whom  he  had  seen  for  the  first  time  since  his 
coming,  although  they  had  often  met  before,  and  known  each 
other  even  from  infancy.  Herbert  had  loved  and  worshiped 
her  from  a  boy  with  the  idolatry  of  the  man  who  worships 
the  woman  he  loves,  and  falls  down  in  adoration  at  her  feet 
as  before  a  divinity.  He  had  never  told  his  love,  because 
it  was  too  big  for  utterance,  nor  had  ever  an  occasion  offered 
so  fitting  as  the  present.  He  did  not  release  her  hand,  but 
held  it  pressed  in  his  nervous  grasp.  His  pressure,  though 
strong  and  manlike,  was  not  painful  to  the  delicate,  fairy 
little  hand  of  Ella  Shelton.  Its  warmth  was  even  pleasant 
and  genial,  and  seemed  to  dissipate  the  coldness  of  her  fingers, 
which  had  become  chilled  by  the  painful  anxiety  which  had 
weighed  like  a  chilling  iceberg  upon  her  heart  ever  since 
she  had  heard  the  sad  news  which  Herbert  had  brought 
from  the  city,  and  her  father's  determination  to  meet  his 
security  debts  by  an  immediate  sale  of  his  property.  She 
was  not  a  coy  nor  a  prudish  maiden,  who  shrinks  from  the 
touch,  or  fears  to  feel  the  warm  and  manly  grasp  of  a  noble 
heart.  Her  tiny  white  hand,  therefore,  soft  as  velvet,  and 
white  as  the  snow-flake,  lay  in  his  as  a  wounded  bird  taking 
shelter  in  the  stranger's  nest.     And  when    Herbert  again 


56  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

spoke,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "  Forgive  me,  my  dear  Miss 
Shelton,  if  I  have  thoughtlessly  intruded  upon  you  at  an 
unpropitious  hour," — she  replied,  in  a  sweet  voice  : 

"  My  father's  friends  are  always  welcome  to  me,  Mr. 
Herbert.  You  are  guilty  of  no  intrusion.  Your  presence 
is  most  welcome." 

"  I  thank  you  kindly  for  those  words.  Would  that  my 
presence  were  so  welcome  that  my  image  could  never  be 
effaced  from  your  heart.  Ella!  dearest  Ella!"  exclaimed 
Herbert,  in  the  low,  deep,  but  distinct  tones  of  earnest, 
manlike  devotion,  "we  have  known  each  other  from  child- 
hood, and  my  love  for  you  has  grown  with  my  growth  and 
strengthened  with  my  strength.  The  love  of  the  boy,  which 
some  may  have  regarded  only  as  one  of  the  vagaries  of  child- 
hood, has  attained  to  the  Herculean  proportions  of  some- 
thing mightier  than  the  love  of  ordinary  manlike  affection. 
Ella,  dearest  Ella ! "  and  Herbert's  voice  trembled  from  the 
intensity  of  his  passion,  so  long  suppressed,  but  which  had 
burst  forth  for  the  first  time  in  words,  "  I  love  you  with 
all  the  ardor  of  which  a  strong  nature  is  capable.  Can 
you  love  me  in  return?  Do  not  say  'nay;'  do  not  utter 
a  word  of  denial ;  for,  0,  it  would  crush  out  my  young  life, 
and  wither,  as  the  breath  of  a  sirocco,  all  my  budding  hopes. 
Only  say  that  thou  wilt  be  mine." 

There  was  no  answer  to  this  passionate  appeal  of  the 
lover,  but  a  single  pressure,  slight,  but  irresistible,  and  most 
expressive,  which,  in  the  life  of  young  and  ardent  lovers, 
like  the  signs  and  the  grips  employed  in  Freemasonry  or 
Odd  Fellowship,  is  felt  only  by  him  who  understands  the 
sign,  and  has  received  the  true  password.  That  touch,  slight 
and  tremulous  as  it  was,  sent  a  thrill  throughout  his  entire 
frame,  and,  in  a  moment,  the  beautiful  girl  was  clasped  with 
a  passionate,  almost  phrensied  love  to  his  breast. 

"Say,  Ella!"  exclaimed  Herbert,  with  a  wild  energy, 
which  was  the  result  of  excessive  joy,  "say  that  you  love 
me !     Let  me  hear  your  voice  !     Speak  but  a  single  word ! 


TUT,    A-BOLTTTONTST    A1NT)    TTTE    LA  XD  TFRATE.  57 

Whisper  it  in  my  ear,  though  it  be  but  as  the  faintest  echo 
of  the  eolian  harp,  and  I  will  bless  you  with  a  heart's  best, 
greatest  love,  which  has  been  treasured  up  for  you  alone 
from  my  earliest  recollection  !  " 

Ella  answered  the  eloquent  appeal  of  her  lover  in  low 
tones;  but  the  murmur  of  her  words,  as  they  escaped  her 
coral  lips,  like  the  murmur  of  the  purling  brook  over  the 
pebbly  strand,  though  low  and  soft,  was  distinct  enough  for 
his  attentive  ear. 

"  I  love  you,  Herbert !  "  she  whispered.  "  You,  and  you 
alone,  could  be  worthy  of  all  the  love  of  my  virgin  heart." 

"  God  bless  you  for  that  saying,  Ella,  and  may  Heaven 
bless  our  future  with  happiness  and  peace." 

"Amen!"  said  a  voice  behind;  and  they  started  abashed 
at  the  sound,  but  recovered  from  their  confusion  in  a  mo- 
ment, as  they  recognized  Old  Toney,  who  had  been  standing 
for  some  seconds  just  behind  them,  indulging  that  irresisti* 
ble  curiosity  of  the  negro,  which,  while  Contemptible  in  a 
white  man,  and  in  him  is  looked  upon  with  abhorrence,  as 
indicative  of  a  mean  and  groveling  spirit,  in  the  slave  is 
not  regarded  as  eavesdropping;  for  the  eavesdropper  con- 
ceals himself,  and  slinks  with  shame  from  discovery,  thus 
confessing  to  himself  his  own  heart's  treachery  and  mean- 
ness. 

Old  Toney  had  not  come  to  listen  to  the  conversation  of 
the  lovers,  or  to  pry  into  their  secrets.  But  when  he  found 
himself  in  their  presence,  and  beheld  their  attitude,  he  felt 
interested— deeply  interested  in  the  answer  which  his  young 
mistress  would  make  to  the  earnest  appeal  of  her  devoted 
lover.  He  felt  so  sure  of  her  virtuous  instincts,  that  he 
was  certain  that  the  man  whose  love  she  would  accept  must 
b.e  worthy  of  her  choice.  The  man  who  could  be  worthy  of 
his  young  mistress,  in  the  estimation  of  Old  Toney,  must  be 
crjual  to  a  prince  himself,  or  even  to  a  divinity. 

Hence  he  not  only  felt  satisfied,  but  rejoiced  in  his  soul 
at  the  successful   issue  of  Herbert's  wooimz ;   and  he  felt 


58  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

toward  the  young  man  a  degree  of  pride  and  admiration,  as 
he  looked  .upon  his  broad  chest,  still  heaving  from  the 
effects  of  his  powerful  and  overmastering  emotion,  putting 
him  in  mind  of  his  old  master's  when  he  used  to  snuff  the 
smell  of  battle.  Old  Toney  felt  toward  young  Herbert  even 
more  than  pride  and  admiration ;  for  already  his  heart  began 
to  warm  with  love  toward  the  object  of  his  mistress's  love, 
and  to  feel  a  sort  of  kinship — a  sort  of  fatherly  feeling.  If 
young  Herbert  had  courted  his  own  daughter,  and  was  des- 
tined to  become  his  son-in-law,  he  could  not  have  had  half 
the  love  which  he  already  began  to  feel  toward  the  young 
man  who  would,  perhaps,  one  day  be  his  master,  and  take 
the  place  of  Colonel  Shelton,  when  the  old  soldier  should 
be  called  to  give  up  his  life  on  earth  and  take  his  seat  in 
heaven.  His  son-in-law !  Bah  !  Old  Toney  would  have 
spurned  the  amalgamationist  from  his  presence  with  loath- 
ing and  abhorrence,  who  was  base-born  enough  to  make  such 
a  proposition.  Old  Toney  was  a  very  aristocratic  old  negro, 
and  thought  a  great  deal  of  himself.  He  belonged  to  an 
aristocratic  gentleman,  and  he  was,  by  consequence,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  same  school.  Old  Toney  would  have  thought  his 
aristocratic  blood  eternally  disgraced,  if  his  daughter  should 
so  far  forget  her  dignity  and  stoop  so  low  as  to  marry  any 
white  man,  even  though  he  might  be  a  member  of  Congress. 
For  a  gentleman,  he  knew,  come  he  from  where  he  may, 
could  not  so  far  forget  his  dignity  as  to  taint  his  blood  by 
mingling  it  with  that  of  the  negro  or  any  other  race ;  while 
his  own  daughter,  he  hoped,  was  too  proud  to  marry  a  low 
white  man. 

But  these  were  not  Old  Toney's  thoughts  at  the  time ; 
they  are  only  the  reflections  of  the  author — reflections  de- 
rived from  a  positive  knowledge  of  the  negro  character,  and 
an  intimate  acquaintance  with  Old  Toney  himself;  for  the 
old  man  had  made  just  such  observations  before,  with  a 
flashing  eye  and  a  lip  curling  with  contempt. 

"  Mass'  Herbert  must  'xcuse  me  for  disturbing  his  happi- 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  59 

ness  at  dis  time,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  bow  and  a  scrape 
of  the  foot.  "  I  said  '  amen,'  'cause  I  could  n't  help  it.  I 
berry  glad,  masser,  to  know  dat  you  and  my  nyung  misses 
lub  one  anurrer.  You  hab  my  free  consent  to  your  matri- 
mony.    I  gib  you  leabe,  masser,  and  I  gib  you  joy,  too." 

"  But  what  is  the  object  of  your  coming  here  at  this  time, 

old  man?  for  I  suppose  that  it  was  hardly  without  design." 

"  I  bog  your  pardon,   Mass'  Herbert.      My  old  masser, 

Colonel  Shelton,  sen'  me  here  for  tell  you  he  want  to  sec 

you  a  little  while." 

Colonel  Shelton's  object  in  sending  for  Mr.  Herbert  was 
simply  to  inform  him  that  all  preliminary  steps  had  been 
taken,  and  that  on  the  morrow  the  necessary  papers  would 
be  arranged,  by  which  he  could  place  in  bank  the  notes  of 
other  responsible  gentlemen,  both  as  collateral  security  and 
as  payment  or  liquidation  of  his  own,  when  they  should 
have  arrived  at  maturity. 

"But  come,  gentlemen,  what  say  you  for  bed?  for  the 
hour  is  late,  and  Langdon  must  start  early  in  the  morning 
for  Georgia;  for  I  shall  need  all  the  money  I  can  lay  my 
hands  upon  which  is  rightly  my  own.  Langdon,  my  boy ! 
you  had  better  go  to  bed  at  once,  so  as  to  make  ag  early  a 
start  as  possible.  Gentlemen  all,  let 's  to  bed ;  and  may 
you  have  refreshing  sleep  and  pleasant  dreams.  But  where 
is  Mr.  Stevens?"  asked  the  Colonel,  in  some  surprise. 

"Mr.  Stevens'  gone,  sir,"  answered  a  negro  boy,  who  was 
holding  a  candle  in  his  hand  to  light  a  gentleman  to  his 
chamber. 

"Gone!  how  long  since?" 
"  About  an  hour  ago,  sir,"  replied  the  boy. 
"And  without  any  formality?  Ah!  well,  it  is  all  right! 
He  would  have  been  welcome  to  remain  all  night.  But  I 
confess  there  is  something  in  that  young  man's  countenance 
which  I  do  not  like.  He  is  a  bold  rider  and  a  good  shot, 
however,  and  he  may,  for  aught  I  know  to  the  contrary,  be 
a  good  friend ;  but  I  fear  he  would  make  a  bad  enemy." 


60  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  J    OH, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Sn  HE  next  morning  Herbert  rose  at  an  early  hour,  and 
went  down  to  the  stables  to  see  how  his  horse  looked 
after  a  hard  ride  on  the  previous  day.  He  found  Col- 
onel Shelton  and  his  son  already  in  the  horse-lot. 
Langdon  was  already  mounted,  and  was  shaking  hands 
with  his  father. 

"  Ah !  Mr.  Herbert,  you  are  an  early  riser,"  said  Lang- 
don. "  I  am  glad  you  are  up  ;  for  otherwise  I  should  not 
have  had  the  pleasure  of  shaking  you  by  the  hand  once 
more." 

"  Which  way  do  you  go  ?    Across  the  Savannah  river?" 

"  No  ;  I  understand  that  it  is  very  bad  crossing,  even  on 
horseback,  and  that  most,  if  not  all,  the  flat-boats  have  been 
swept  away  by  the  freshets,  and  have  not  as  yet  been  recov- 
ered. The  alternative  is  either  to  cross  the  river  in  a  canoe, 
and  foot  it  all  the  way  down,  or  ride  to  the  Ohaties,  or  May 
river,  and  get  some  one  of  those  accommodating  sea-island 
srentlemen  to  send  me  around  to  Savannah  in  a  row-boat." 

"  And  I  presume  that,  as  you  have  no  desire  to  have  your 
feet  blistered  up  by  a  long  walk  of  sixty  or  seventy  miles,  you 
have  concluded  to  make  good  the  reverse  of  the  old  saying — 
'  The  longest  way  round  is  the  shortest  way  from  as  well  as 
to  home.' " 

"  Yes,  that  is  my  intention,"  replied  Langdon,  with  a  smile. 

"  But  you  will  have  a  very  lonesome  ride  by  yourself.  Do 
you  go  alone?"  asked  Herbert,  with  interest. 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  61 

"  No,  Old  Toney  goes  with  me.  My  father  seems  to  for- 
get that  I  am  nearly  twenty-one,  and  that  I  am  old  enough 
to  take  care  of  myself.  Come,  old  man,  bring  out  your 
horse  and  mount.  It  is  time  we  should  be  moving  and  on 
the  road." 

Old  Toney  was  just  then  leading  his  horse  out  of  the 
stable  door,  and  replied  himself  to  Langdon  Shclton's  last 
remark,  by  addressing  himself  to  Mr.  Herbert. 

"  No,  Mass'  Langdon  ain't  old  enough  yet  to  take  care  ob 
himself,  widout  me.  He  is  nyung  yet,  masser,  and  ain't 
sowed  all  ob  his  wild  oats.  He  ain't  up  to  all  the  ways  ob 
de  world,  and  do  n't  know  how  fur  steer  a  boat,  and,  dere- 
fore,  my  masser  and  ine  concluded  dat,  on  dc  whole,  it  would 
best  for  me — Old  Toney — to  go  'long  wid  him.  Mass'  Lang- 
don know  berry  well  how  to  guide  a  boss,  but  to  steer  a  boat 
am  a  berry  different  t'ing." 

"  Old  Toney  is  right,  Langdon,"  said  Herbert,  with  a 
smile.  "  The  up -countryman  is  indeed  like  a  fish  out  of 
water  when  he  goes  upon  the  'salts.'  He  is  a  regular  curi- 
osity to  a  sea-islander,  a  land-crab,  and,  in  attempting  to 
manage  a  helm,  would  cause  the  boat  hands  '  to  catch  more 
crabs '  with  their  oars  than  they  ever  caught,  perhaps,  with 
their  hands ! — even  if  he  had  the  good  luck  to  escape  run- 
ning aground,  or  capsizing  the  boat  in  rough  water." 

"Well,  well!  I  suppose  you  know  best.  Good-by,  old 
fellow.     Good-by  again,  father." 

"Good-by,  Langdon,"  and  "God  bless  you,  my  son,"  were 
the  only  words  spoken  by  Mr.  Herbert  and  Colonel  Shelton 
to  the  young  man,  who  passed  out  of  the  gate  followed  by 
Old  Toney  on  his  coal-black  horse  ;  and  Colonel  Shelton 
and  the  bank  officer  were  left  alone  in  the  lot.  It  was  a 
good  opportunity  to  unburden  his  mind,  and,  difficult  as 
was  the  task,  he  determined  to  speak  to  the  Colonel  upon 
the  subject  nearest  his  heart.  But  as  eloquent  as  Herbert 
could  be  at  other  times,  he  found  it  difficult — far  more  dif- 
ficult to  express  himself  in  the  simplest  terms,  (ban  he  had 


62  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER ;    OR, 

ever  found  it  in  all  his  life  before.  He  could  only  stam- 
mer forth  the  words,  "  Colonel  Shelton,  I  love  your 
daughter,  and  am  loved  in  return.  Can  you  consent  to  our 
union?  " 

"No,  no  !  my  dear  Herbert !  not  now,  not  now ! "  said  the 
Colonel,  with  emotion.  "  I  have  just  lost  all  my  property. 
Do  n't  let  me  lose  my  daughter  so  soon.  She  will  be,  for 
some  time  to  come,  one  of  my  greatest  comforts." 

"  I  did  not  mean,  sir,  in  asking  your  consent  to  our  union, 
to  propose  marriage  at  this  time.  May  I  hope,  however, 
that  at  some  future  period,  when  you  can  spare  her  better 
than  now,  I  may  claim  her  as  my  bride?" 

"Herbert,  my  boy,"  said  the  old  Colonel,  with  emotion, 
while  the  tears  trickled  down  his  furrowed  and  sun-burnt 
cheeks,  "if  you  will  promise  me  that,  Ella  shall  be  yours. 
God  bless  you,  Herbert.  I  have  loved  you  from  the  time 
you  were  a  boy,  and  I  do  not  think  there  is  a  young  man 
on  earth  whom  I  could  love  more  as  a  son-in-law.  You 
can  have  Ella,  if  you  promise  not  to  marry  her  now." 

But  let  us  make  haste  to  follow  Langdon  and  Old  Toney, 
before  they  are  out  of  sight  and  are  too  far  to  be  overtaken ; 
for  it  is  our  design  to  take  the  reader  along  with  them,  that 
he  may  see  and  understand  something  of  the  characteristics 
of  the  salt-water  negro,  who,  like  the  water-dog,  lives  in 
scarcely  any  other  element ;  for,  although  amphibious,  he 
seems  to  prefer  the  water  to  the  land.  You  might  as  well 
cut  off  his  head  at  once,  as  to  attempt  to  move  him  from 
the  salt  water,  where  he  was  bred  and  born.  "In  de  up- 
country,  masser,  you  can't  see  nothin'  't  all — no  water,  no 
fish,  no  crab,  no  oshter,  not  nothin'.  Ow !  me  no  want  to 
lib  in  de  up-country." 

But  if  the  sea-island  negro  loves  the  salt  water,  he  dreads 
one  inhabitant  of  the  rivers  and  creeks  more  than  anything 
in  nature.  It  is  not  the  shark,  with  which  he  could  do 
battle  upon  vantage-ground,  but  the  alligator — the  terrible 
alligator.     But  it  is  not  that  he  dreads  his  teeth,  sharp  and 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  63 

powerful  as  they  are;  nor  his  mighty  tail,  which  he  e&n 
sweep  with  the  force  and  destruction  of  a  leviathan.  It  is 
with  a  superstitious  awe  that  he  regards  the  beast,  inso- 
much that  he  shudders,  and  shakes  his  head,  and  would  turn 
pale  if  he  could,  at  the  very  mention  of  his  name.  This  is 
doubtless  a  superstition  brought  from  Africa  by  their  fore- 
fathers— the  Africans — who  ingrafted  their  religious  belief, 
to  a  great  degree,  upon  the  minds  of  their  children.  The 
African,  as  well  as  the  Hindoo,  worships  the  crocodile, 
regarding  him  as  a  wrathful  deity,  whose  anger  must  never 
be  provoked,  and  always  appeased.  Hence  they  fling  their 
helpless  children,  and  deformed  or  crippled,  into  the  jaws 
of  the  monster,  who  devours  them  before  the  very  eyes  of 
the  devotee,  and  then  goes  away  satisfied  and  appeased,  as 
the  poor,  ignorant  savage  vainly  imagines. 

It  was  this  superstition,  so  abhorrent  to  our  nature,  that 
became  ingrafted  upon  the  mind  of  the  sea-island  negro, 
who  retained,  in  a  modified  degree,  the  erroneous  impres- 
sion that  the  alligator  wTas  to  be  reverenced  and  dreaded  as 
the  harbinger  of  evil  tidings  and  the  forerunner  of  calami- 
tous events.  To  see  him  lying  like  a  log,  floating  upon  the 
water,  is  bad  enough,  but  to  speak  of  him  in  any  way — to 
call  his  name  aloud,  while  in  a  boat  and  upon  the  water, 
can  not  be  tolerated;  and  the  luckless  wight  who  should 
mention  irreverently  the  name  of  the  foul  beast  would  be 
threatened,  if  not  actually  put  out  of  the  boat  upon  the 
nearest  marsh,  unless  he  had  a  protector  strong  enough  to 
defend  him.  With  such  a  superstitious  crew — a  half  dozen 
able-bodied  men — did  Langdon  Shelton  and  Old  Toney  take 
passage  for  Savannah  from  the  landing  of  Mr.  Stearly.  The 
boat  was  a  good  one.  and  swam  the  water  like  a  duck  ;  but 
never  did  she  go  so  fast  as  when  the  oar-hands  were  sing- 
ing some  lively  boat-song.  These  songs  arc  usually  the 
impromptu  words  of  a  leader,  who  makes  them  as  he  goes. 
They  seldom  or  never  rhyme,  and  can  not  be  dignified  even 
with  the  title  of  blank  verse.     They  have  but  little  sense  or 


GJ:  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

meaning  in  them,  but  they  have  a  lively,  cheering  effect, 
especially  when  heard  at  a  distance. 

But,  besides  the  cheering  fact  that  the  flood-tide  was  itself 
bearing  them  rapidly  toward  the  city,  they  were  in  a  gallant 
boat,  of  whose  speed  they  felt  as  proud  as  the  boy  who  pats 
the  victorious  racer  upon  his  mane.  The  boat  has  no  mane, 
it  is  true,  but  as  they  approach  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  city, 
see  how  the  foreman  straightens  up,  and,  rowing  with  one 
hand  a  while,  pats  the  gunwale  of  the  boat,  and  then,  turn- 
ing round  slaps  his  neighbor's  oar  with  the  other  hand, 
exclaiming,  "Come  brudder,  come,  come!  pass  urn  on,  pass 
um  on !  " 

Now  is  the  time  for  a  song,  such  a  song  as  will  inspire 
and  give  new  life  and  power  to  the  muscle  which  was  half 
weary  before.  And  these  are  somewhat  like  the  words 
which  the  foreman  sung,  as  leader  of  the  sable  band.  He 
sung  them  usually  in  a  low,  plaintive  tone,  and  was  answered 
in  quite  a  different  style  by  a  cheering  chorus  of  voices,  which 
might  have  been  heard  across  the  waters  for  many  miles : 

Foreman. — My  masser  gone  to  Boston. 
Chorus. —  Yo !  ho  !  bo  ! 

Foreman. — My  misses  gone  to  Charleston. 
Cliorus. —  Yo  !  he  !  ho  ! 

Foreman. — My  masser  is  a  blessed  man. 
Chorus. —  Yo  !  he  !  ho  ! 

Foreman. — My  missis  is  a  lubly  'oman. 
Chorus. —  Yo !  he  !  ho  ! 

Foreman. — God  bless  my  masser. 
Chorus. —  Yo  !  he  !  ho ! 

Foreman. — Mek  fie  vessel  sail  fast. 
Chorus. —  Yo !  he  !  ho  ! 

Foreman. — Let  my  masser  come  home. 
Chorus. —  Yo  !  he  !  ho ! 

Foreman. — God  bless  my  masser. 
Chorus. —  Yo  !  he  !  ho  ! 

Foreman. — He  gib  poor  nigger  belly  full. 
Chorus. —  Yo  !  he  !  ho ! 

Foreman. — I  want  to  see  my  misses. 
Chorus. —  Yo!  be!  ho! 

Foreman. — My  misses  she  is  berry  kind. 
Chorus. —  Yo  !  he  !  ho ! 

Foreman.— She  will  bring  my  Chris'raas. 
Chorus. —  Yo!  be!  bo! 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  G5 

Now,  be  it  borne  in  mind,  gentle  reader,  that  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Stearly  were  both  at  home ;  neither  the  one  at  Boston, 
nor  the  other  in  Charleston.  It  was,  therefore,  a  purely 
imaginative  composition,  improvised  as  do  the  Italians,  and 
possessing,  from  the  accounts  of  some  travelers,  about  as 
much  poetry  and  pathos  as  many  of  the  impromptu  songs 
of  the  gondoliers  at  Venice.  All  that  was  said  and  sung, 
at  least  by  this  sable  poet,  came  from  his  heart,  which  was 
full  of  joy,  because  he  was  not  only  nearing  his  journey's 
end,  but  was  going  to  town  ;  and  what  negro's  heart  does 
not  beat  faster  as  he  sees  the  tall  spires  of  the  city  which 
he  is  approaching?  Especially  was  it  the  case  with  these 
boatmen  now.  For  did  they  not  well  know  that  young 
Shelton  would  give  them  all  presents  and  grog-money?  for 
was  it  ever  known,  since  the  days  of  Noah,  that  a  young 
man  should  go  to  town  in  a  fast-rowing  boat  and  not  treat 
the  boat  hands  ? 

But  the  joy  of  the  boatmen  was  converted  into  grief  in  a 
moment  by  an  ill-timed  exclamation  of  Langdon  Shelton, 
who  cried  out,  with  enthusiasm : 

"  There  swims  an  alligator !  Would  that  I  had  my  rifle 
here!" 

The  song  ceased ;  the  strongly-braced  muscles  of  the  oars- 
men relaxed  ;  their  sable  countenances  fell ;  and  their  woolly 
heads  drooped  upon  their  breasts.  Shelton,  ignorant  of  the 
superstitions  of  the  salt-water  negro,  had  incautiously,  im- 
prudently, mentioned  that  dread  name— the  name  of  the 
river  god,  whose  wrath  would  be  surely  kindled  against  them. 

"Ow  !  masser !  enty  you  know  dat  word  should  n't  be  talk 
on  de  water?" 

"  What  harm  is  there  in  speaking  of  an  alligator,  I  should 
like  to  know?"  exclaimed  Shelton,  with  surprise. 

"Bad  luck,  masser!  berry  bad  luck  !  No  good  can  hap- 
pen to  de  man  dat  take  his  name  in  wain." 

"Foolishness!  foolishness!"  cried  Old  Toney,  who  was 
seated   on   the   stern-seat,   behind    his   young    master,   who 


66  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

reclined  upon  the  platform,  which  was  covered  with  two  or 
three  buffalo  robes.  "Boys  !  I  am  older  dan  you,"  said  the 
old  man,  with  fatherly  pride  and  dignity,  "and  I  am,  dere- 
fore,  able  to  teach  you  some  t'ings  dat  may  do  you  good. 
When  I  was  a  nyung  man,  I  used  to  hab  silly  notions  my- 
self. But  I  hab  seen  a  great  deal  in  my  time,  and  I  'speck 
I  know  more  dan  most  niggers  in  de  up-country,  'specially 
dan  salt-water  niggers,  who  am  berry  ignorant  as  a  general 
rule.  My  old  masser,  Colonel  Shelton,  is  a  berry  smart 
man — almost  as  smart  as  General  Jackson,  who  licked  the 
British.  Bat  is  to  say,  he  helped  to  lick  dem ;  aldo'  he 
could  n't  'a  done  it  widout  me  and  my  masser  to  help  him. 
Now,  when  I  was  to  New  Orleans,  I  see  a  great  many  alli- 
gators— de  biggest  kind ;  one  ob  them  could  swallow  a  Sab- 
'nah  riber  alligator  at  one  swallow !  Well,  a  succumstance 
happened  to  me,  when  I  was  out  on  de  Massissip,  which 
cured  me  complete  ob  all  my  old  foolishness  'bout  alliga- 
tors ;  and  as  we  got  two  or  tree  miles  to  go  yet,  I  will  tell 
de  story  in  as  few  words  as  possible.  Well,  you  see,  it  was 
just  after  de  great  battle  of  New  Orleans,  when  General 
Jackson,  and  Colonel  Shelton,  and  myself,  and  de  rest  ob 
us  licked  de  British,  for  we  all  helped  to  lick  'em ;  and  I 
reckon  we  licked  'em  till  dey  stayed  licked  dat  time ;  for 
we  licked  'em  all  clean  into  de  water,  and  sent  'em  back  to 
dere  big  gun-boats  as  fast  a  passel  of  otters  scared  off  a 
riber  bank.  It  was  in  dat  great  battle  dat  I  loss  dis  lef ' 
eye ;  not  to  say  I  loss  it  complete,  'cause  I  can  see  out'n 
'um  if  I  wants  to.  But  den,  you  see,  it  was  berry  sore  for 
seb'ral  days,  and  I  could  n't  open  de  lid,  which  was  all 
swell  up  some  like  a  bee-sting.  I  was  berry  tired  ob  de 
camp  and  de  city,  and  Colonel  Shelton  gib  me  leabe  to  go 
and  walk  in  de  country,  to  get  de  fresh  air.  So  I  walked 
and  I  walked,  mile  arter  mile,  mile  arter  mile,  forgetful  ob 
what  I  was  about.  But  I  was  wake  up  sudden  like  from 
my  wisions,  by  a  slap  on  my  leg,  cowallup.  De  blow  hap- 
pened to  be  a  light  one,  or,  please  God,  it  would  'a  broke  my 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  67 

leg;  for  de  blow  was  gib  by  the  tail-cencl  ob  a  alligator's 
tail.  You  see  de  way  dat  happen  was  dis  :  de  alligator  was 
lyin'  on  de  lef '  side  ob  de  road,  and  rny  lef '  eye  was  all 
shut  up — bung  up  so  dat  1  couldn't  see  'um  good;  and  T 
t'inks  if  de  t'ing  had  been  de  debble,  he  would  'a  know  bet- 
ter how  to  strike  ;  he  would  n't  'a  tried  to  do  a  t'ing  widout 
doin'  it  right.     Don't  you  tink  so,  Brudder  Caesar?" 

"I  dunno,  Uncle  Toney  ;  mebbe  de  good  Lord  unjint  ec 
tail  jis  'bout  dat  time,"  said  the  foreman,  shaking  his  head. 
"  I  dunno,  Uncle  Toney." 

"  You  shake  your  head,  enty?  Berry  well.  I  will  prove 
de  t'ing  still  plainer  to  your  dull  onderstandin'.  Well,  sir, 
when  I  feel  de  blow,  I  gib  one  spring  dat  way,  and  please 
God,  I  jump  right  where  de  good  Lord  would  hab  it;  for  if 
I  had  a  jump  de  udder  way,  I  would  a  jump  right  into  de 
alligator's  mout' ;  and  den,  hoss,  dere  was  some  tall  runnin', 
I  can  tell  you.  I  do  n't  mean  to  say  dat  I  run  any  more 
dan  de  alligator  ;  for  mebbe  I  would  n't  'a  run  if  de  alligator 
hadn't  run  too.  'T  was  a  reg'lar  race,  you  see,  and  'twas 
'  pull  Dick,  pull  debble  '  who  should  git  to  de  fence  fust.  If 
I  was  always  a  leetle  ahead,  him  bein'  right  arter  me — close 
'pon  my  heels — I  had  often  yerry  that  if  you  run  crooked, 
and  run  fas',  de  alligator  could  n't  cotch  you.  But  'taint  no 
use.  De  alligator  can  run  crookeder  dan  you  can — some  like 
a  sarpent.  Well,  boys,  to  make  my  story  short,  I  got  at  last  to 
a  fence  which  was  close  to  de  water,  and  I  climbed  on  de  rail 
like  an  old  coon  takin'  to  a  tree.  But,  please  God  !  Mass' 
Langdon,  would  you  beliebe  it?  dat  alligator  could  climb 
as  good  as  a  squcrrel !  I  was  dat  scared  dat  I  could  n't 
move,  nor  even  jump  obcr  de  fence,  but  sot  on  de  fence  like 
a  coon  on  a  tree,  lookin'  down  on  de  monster.  De  alligator 
climb  up  same  like  a  man  !  He  come  right  at  me  !  He  most 
eat  me  up  !  I  fall  off  de  fence  wid  fear  !  De  alligator  crawl 
oberand  come  straight  at  me  !  I  was  den  lyin'  on  de  ground, 
and  I  couldn't  move!  His  two  eyes  shine  into  mine  like 
two  coals  ob  fire  !     He  opened  his  big  mout',  and  . showed 


68  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  j    OR, 

his  two  long  white  rows  ob  hard  ivory  !  T'inks  I  to  myself 
just  den,  '  If  you  id  ill  eat  me  up,  eat  my  hand  fust.'  So  I 
poked  my  right  hand  into  his  mout',  and,  please  Grod  !  de 
alligator  nebber  could  open  his  mout'  any  more!" 

"How  was  that,  old  man?"  asked  young  Shelton,  who 
seemed  very  much  interested  in  Old  Toney's  narrative. 

"Why,  you  see,  Mass'  Langdon,  de  way  ob  it  was  dis: 
when  I  fall  off  de  fence,  I  was  holdin'  on  to  the  rail — de 
top  rail ;  and  in  my  scare,  a  piece  ob  de  rail,  'bout  twelve 
or  eighteen  inch  long,  broke  off  in  my  hand,  and  I  did  n't 
know  it  at  all.  When,  derefore,  I  poke  hand  in  de  alliga- 
tor mout',  I  did  n't  know  dat  I  had  a  fat  lightwood  splin- 
ter, 'bout  two  inch  t'ick  and  most  two  feet  long,  grasped  in 
my  hand.  Dat  succumstance  saved  my  life.  It  was  de  good 
Providence  ob  a  mussiful  Fa'rer  dat  persaved  my  life  from 
de  jaws  ob  de  alligator.  Masser,  you  know  de  good  book 
say  dat  de  Lord  locked  de  mout'  ob  de  lions,  so  dat  dey 
couldn't  hu't  Daniel,  de  prophet;  and  he  locked  clere 
mout's  by  shuttin'  dem  down !  But  alligator  mout'  lock 
tuclder  way ;  he  lock  by  keepin'  um  open.  Well,  de  alliga- 
tor roll  and  tumble  and  bellow  like  a  mad  bull ;  but  what 
could  he  do?  Nothin'.  I  jist  stan'  up  on  my  feet  and 
laugh  at  'um  till  I  could  n't  laugh  no  longer,  and  I  only  quit 
'cause  de  cussed  t'ing  got  so  tired  dat  he  could  n't  roll  and 
pitch  and  tumble  any  more.  When  dat  happen,  I  goes 
right  up  to  'um,  and  catch  'um  hold  by  de  stick  in  his  mout'. 
I  pull  berry  hard  and  strong,  like  a  man  pullin'  a  jackass 
down  to  de  water  agin  de  jackass'  consent  and  free  will; 
but  at  last  I  got  'um  to  de  water  and  dere  I  drowned  'um. 
Yes,  masser,  't  is  a  fac'  trot' !  I  duck  'um  wid  his  mout' 
wide  open,  till  I  drowned  'um  as-  easy  as  a  puppy.  When 
I  seed  dat,  I  loss  all  my  respek  for  de  alligator,  and  ebber 
since  I  talk  'bout  'um  much  as  I  please,  in  de  water  or  out 
ob  de  water.     He  is  a  stinkin'  cuss  any  way." 

The  last  stroke  of  the  oar  was  given  as  Old  Toney  con- 
cluded his  narrative,  which  his  young  master  knew  to  be 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  09 

true,  for  Old  Toney  never  willfully  exaggerated,  for  a  man 
may  be  a  good  story-teller  and  yet  a  man  of  the  strictest 
veracity.  As  soon  as  the  boat  was  made  secure  to  the 
wharf,  Langdon  stepped  from  the  boat,  followed  by  the 
faithful  servant,  and  ascended  the  steps  leading  from  the 
water's  edge.  Crossing  over  a  wide,  sandy  area,  "under  the 
bluff,"  he  ascended  step  after  step  of  dark-colored  stone, 
until  he  became  weary  in  the  ascent,  but  at  length  succeeded 
in  reaching  "  the  Bay," — a  broad,  sandy  street,  with  two 
rows  of  mammoth  trees,  called  "  Pride  of  India,"  growing 
in  the  center.  These  trees  formed,  in  those  da}Ts,  a  splendid 
commercial  avenue,  where  the  business  men  of  the  city  walked 
and  talked,  and  where  many  a  grand  scheme  had  its  origin 
which  would  make  some  future  merchant  prince,  or  mar  the 
fortune  of  *those  who  had  already  obtained  that  position  and 
power  which  wealth  confers. 

Those  grand  old  trees  !  how  beautiful  they  looked  when 
in  spring  or  summer-time  they  were  dressed  in  all  the  glory 
of  their  verdant  foliage !  But  they  were  not  in  bloom  when 
Langdon  Shelton  looked  upon  them  as  he  leaned  against  the 
iron  railing  near  the  Exchange,  to  recover  his  breath  from 
the  fatigue  of  his  ascent.  Old  winter  had  shorn  them  of 
their  glory  for  a  brief  season  only.  Who  could  have  fore- 
told that  the  storm  of  '56  would  lay  nearly  all  of  them  low, 
while  scarcely  a  single  one  would  be  left  standing  which  was 
not  so  scarred,  and  bruised,  and  battered  by  the  storm  as 
to  render  its  removal  necessary?  Those  grand  old  trees! 
they  are  passing  away,  even  as  the  ancient,  and  honorable, 
and  grand  old  men  of  the  Revolution  ;  and  the  times  still 
later,  of  which  we  are  writing,  are  passing  away  and  giving 
place  not  only  to  younger  men,  but  to  men  of  other  climes. 
Let  them  pass  away — the  trees  and  men — and  let  others  take 
their  place;  but  let  them  not  be  forgotten.  Just  here  let 
us  shed  a  tear  as  tribute  to  their  memory  ;  a  tear  over  the 
graves  and  the  graveyard  of  those  venerable  men  whom  we 
knew  and  loved  in  our  infancy  and  boyhood.     A  tear  over 


70  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

the  spot  where  those  noble  old  trees  once  stood,  and  beneath 
whose  cool  shade  we  have  played  the  gambols  of  the  child. 
Grand,  dear  old  trees  !  the  spot  which  knew  you  once  shall 
know  you  no  more.  Grand,  glorious  old  men !  but  few 
remain  to  tell  how  great,  and  good,  and  kind,  their  prede- 
cessors to  the  tomb  once  were.  ■ 

As  soon  as  Langdon  Shelton  had  somewhat  recovered 
from  his  fatigue  he  went  straight  to  the  counting-room  of  a 
commission  merchant  on  the  Bay,  whom  we  shall  call  Mr. 
Hartwell.  He  was  an  old  acquaintance  and  friend  of 
Colonel  Shelton ;  and  he  could  impart  to  Langdon  all 
necessary  information  which  he  needed  for  the  further 
performance  of  his  journey.  Mr.  Hartwell  insisted  that 
Langdon  should  take  a  couple  of  his  own  horses  instead  of 
applying  at  the  livery  stables,  as  he  had  intended  doing. 
After  some  persuasion,  which  amounted  finally  to  a  per- 
emptory command,  the  young  man  consented  to  the  proposal. 
Old  Bob,  who  had  swept  the  floor  of  the  counting-house  and 
had  occupied  the  post  of  cotton-sampler  from  time  imme- 
morial, was  called  up  by  Mr.  Hartwell,  and  ordered  to  take 
Old  Toney  with  him  and  saddle  immediately  a  couple  of 
horses,  for  Old  Bob  was  chief  ostler  as  well  as  cotton- 
sampler.  A  half-hour  afterward  Langdon  and  Old  Toney 
had  left  the  city,  and  were  on  the  broad  highway,  or 
stage-road,  leading  to  Augusta.  Nothing  worthy  of  notice 
occurred  on  the  road  to  Mr.  McPherson's,  who  was  the 
gentleman  to  whose  house  Langdon  was  going  to  receive  a 
sum  of  money  amounting  to  between  two  and  three  thou- 
sand dollars. 

"  I  am  truly  glad  you  have  come  ;"  said  the  old  man,  who 
was  crippled  with  rheumatism.  "  I  have  been  wanting  to  pay 
your  father  a  long  time  ;  but  the  old  Colonel  is  so  rich — 
indeed,  never  seemed  to  value  money  as  other  men — that  I 
wonder  he  has  sent  you  at  all." 

"Ah!  sir!"  said  Langdon,  with  a  sigh;  "my  father  is 
rich  no  longer.     He  has  been  compelled  to  sell  all  of  his 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  71 

large  property,  with  the  exception  of  Old  Toney  and  his 
family,  amounting  in  all  to  ten  negroes,  old  and  young. 
This  number  of  slaves,  and  the  few  thousands  you  are  so 
kind  as  to  offer  to  pay  him  now,  constitute  all  the  property 
of  my  once  so  wealthy  father.  It  is  the  property  of  a  poor 
man,  sir,  biut,  thank  God,  of  an  honest  one.  In  the  act 
of  selling  out  so  promptly  to  prevent  his  notes  being  pro- 
tested in  bank,  he  has  left  his  son  a  richer  legacy  than  could 
have  been  procured  from  all  the  mines  of  Peru,  or  the  rubies 
of  Golconda,  And  God  giving  me  strength,  sir,  I  shall  repay 
him  for  his  noble  act.  I  trust  in  God  that  the  son  may 
prove  worthy  of  such  a  sire." 

"Spoken  like  a  brave  young  man,"  exclaimed  old  Mr. 
McPherson.  "Your  metal  has  the  right  sort  of  ring.  I 
do  not  doubt,  sir,  that  if  you  live  long  enough  you  will 
prove  not  only  an  honor  to  your  father,  but  the  country." 

"God  grant  it,"  said  young  Shelton,  solemnly,  and  in 
fervent  tones. 

"Amen!  I  say,"  exclaimed  Mr.  McPherson.  "We  shall 
need,  by  and  by,  strong  men  ;  smart  men  ;  inflexible  men ; 
men  with  a  head  and  a  heart,  too;  sons  with  such  sires  as 
yours  ;  men  such  as  I  predict  you  will  become  one  day,  with 
God's  blessing  upon  you.  The  slavery  question  is  beginning 
to  worry  us ;  but  at  present  only  'paper  bullets  of  the  brain  ' 
are  used  as  weapons.  The  day  is  coming,  young  man.  I 
am  no  prophet,  nor  the  son  of  a  prophet,  but  I  can  see  the 
handwriting  upon  the  wall,  which  may  be  illegible  to 
others — and  as  Lochiel  was  warned  by  the  seer,  I,  also, 
an  old  man  looking  into  the  grave,  warn  the  generations  to 
Dome  that  the  evil  day  is  not  far  off,  when  they  will  be 
compelled  to  stand  by  their  arms,  and  with  sword  and 
bayonet  to  defend  their  firesides  and  domestic  altars." 

"From  whom  do  you  expect  such  evils?"  asked  young 
Shelton,  in  a  moment  of  abstraction ;  "from  the  Indians?" 

■  Xo,  sir,  not  from  the  red  man,  but  from  our  Northern 
brethren;    from  white  men;    from   Anglo-Saxons  like  our- 


72  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

selves,  wlio  will  be  a  more  terrible  foe  than  ever  the  Indian 
could  be.  The  Indian  will  burn  your  home,  it  is  true,  and 
scalp  your  women  and  children  ;  but  his  race  is  soon  run. 
For  when  the  white  man  rises  up  in  all  his  might,  he  can 
crush  with  his  heel  the  head  of  the  viper,  whose  impatient 
tail  only  will  writhe,  and  make  manifest  its  former  life 
through  the  remnants  of  a  few  scattered  tribes.  But,  sir, 
should  an  intestine  war  prevail,  it  would  be  a  war  wherein 
'Greek  meets  Greek;'  and  the  clash  of  steel  and  the  roar 
of  artillery  will  never  cease  to  be  heard  until  the  North 
and  the  South,  in  their  last  death-struggle,  shall  lie  locked 
in  each  other's  arms.  An  internecine  war  will  be  a  war  of 
extermination,  which  shall  redden  not  our  rivers  only,  but 
the  broad  Atlantic  itself  shall  become  so  tainted  and  so  thick 
with  human  gore,  that  vessels  of  commerce  can  no  more  sail 
upon  its  bosom  than  a  bird  can  fly  over  the  Dead  sea,  or  a 
horse  swim  upon  its  bituminous  waters.  Trade,  which  is 
already  beginning  to  assume  such'  vast  proportions,  and  to 
become  such  a  splendid  edifice,  will  become  a  wreck  of 
scattered  ruins ;  and,  amid  the  fallen  piers  of  the  Temple 
of  Commerce,  leveled  to  the  earth  by  the  ruthless  hand  of 
fanaticism,  the  future  statesman  and  patriot  will  stand  weep- 
ing, like  Marius  amid  the  ruins  of  Carthage,  and  mourning 
that  his  own  or  his  brother's  hand  had  wrought  such  woe 
and  desolation  ! " 

Langdon  was  astonished  as  he  looked  upon  this  old  man, 
whose  plain,  hard  features  and  home-spun  clothes  gave  no 
evidence  of  scholarship  or  superior  training. 

"He  reads — he  thinks,"  said  Langdon,  mentally.  "If 
such  are  the  men  of  our  plantations,  and  even  small  farms, 
what  giants  will  our  future  statesmen  be  !  The  men  of  the 
South  have  a  high  destiny  before  them.  God  grant  that 
the  fruit  of  promise  may  not  be  plucked  from  the  national 
tree  before  it  has  reached  the  age  of  maturity  and  attained 
to  its  period  of  ripeness." 

"Amen!"   said   Mr.   McPherson,  with  an  energy  which 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  73 

startled  young  Shelton,  so  that  lie  stepped  backward  and 
looked  at  the  old  man  with  surprise  depicted  upon  his 
countenance.  He  knew  not  that  he  had  been  speaking 
aloud,  and  that  his  thoughts  had  gradually  assumed  the 
shape  of  audible  words,  which  were  both  heard  and  appre- 
ciated by  his  auditor. 

Mr.  McPherson  would  have  been  a  "  fire-eater  "  if  he  had 
lived  in  the  present  day ;  he  was  only  an  observer  then — a 
sharp,  shrewd  observer — watching  the  smoke  and  the  peb- 
bles which  were  now  and  then  puffed  out  by  the  infant  vol- 
cano, which  he  foresaw  was  destined  to  become  a  tall, 
burning  mountain,  whose  rumbling  would  be  heard  all  over 
the  American  continent;  whose  shocks  would  be  felt  in 
distant  Europe,  and  whose  burning  lava  might  roll  from  its 
lofty  hight  to  sweep  away  Liberty  and  the  Constitution, 
brotherly  love,  commerce,  everything  which  a  free  people 
could  think  worth  having  or  striving  for. 

Mr.  McPherson's  predictions  are  fast  becoming  verified. 
Humboldt  says  he  saw,  in  South  America,  an  old  man  seated  in 
front  of  his  cabin  smoking  a  pipe.  In  the  distance,  and  ap- 
parently but  a  little  way  off,  was  a  volcano  then  smoking  and 
casting  out  stones  and  melted  lava,  which  rolled  down  its  sides. 

"How  long  has  that  mountain  been  smoking,  do  you  sup- 
pose?" asked  the  traveler  of  the  old  man. 

"Ever  since  I  was  a  boy,"  replied  the  South  American. 
"  I  can  remember  when  it  was  but  a  little  hole  no  bigger 
than  the  bowl  of  my  pipe,  and  puffing  out  a  little  column 
of  smoke  in  regular  puffs,  as  if  blown  by  a  bellows  by  some 
5ne  concealed  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  Then,  its  smoke 
rose  no  higher  than  this  which  curls  from  my  pipe  ;  see 
how  black  and  thick  it  is  now !  Then,  it  was  no  bigger 
than  an  ant-hill,  and  only  grains  of  glittering  sand  and  peb- 
bles were  puffed  out  from  its  tiny  mouth ;  now,  see  to  what 
a  lofty  hight  it  has  attained,  and  how  its  smoky  peaks  look 
down  with  contempt  upon  the  clouds.  It  casts  forth  peb- 
bles no  more,  but  mighty  stones," 
4 


74  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

"Astonishing!"  said  Humboldt;  "such  a  mountain  the 
work  of  a  few  years  only!  " 

As  rapid  as  was  the  growth  of  that  mountain,  no  less  so 
has  been  the  volcano  of  Abolitionism.  But,  as  the  old  man 
had  sat  for  so  many  years  before  his  little  cabin,  watching 
its  growth  unharmed  and  as  indifferently  as  he  watched  the 
smoke  which  curled  from  his  calumet,  let  us  pray  God  that 
we  of  the  United  States  may  see  this  political  volcano  die 
out,  and  its  internal  fires  become  quenched  as  that  of  South 
America.  For,  as  Humboldt's  volcano  afterward  became 
extinct,  and  as  no  lives  were  ever  lost  by  its  eruptions,  let 
us  sincerely  hope  that  the  prayers  and  tears  of  brotherhood 
commingled  at  the  national  altar,  and  gathered  in  a  mighty 
reservoir,  shall  be  poured  down  the  smoking  crater  of  Black 
Republicanism,  until  they  shall  extinguish  the  consuming 
fires  which  rage  in  the  heart  of  the  mad  Abolitionist  who 
would  light  the  torch  of  civil  war. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  75 


CHAPTER   V. 

'ANGrDON  was  so  interested  in  Mr.  McPherson's  so- 
ciety that  lie  did  not  attempt  to  return  to  the  city 
until  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day ;  for  he  did  not 
reach  Mr.  McPherson's  until  some  time  after  dark  ;  and 
as  he  was  very  much  fatigued  hy  his  journey,  he  had 
slept  to  a  very  late  hour  of  the  morning.  It  was  not  until 
twelve  o'clock,  therefore,  that  he  had  finished  the  moneyed 
transactions  which  had  called  him  into  Georgia,  and  as 
dinner  was  upon  the  table  by  one  o'clock,  Mr.  McPherson 
pressed  him  to  remain,  and  so  engaged  his  attention  that 
it  was  some  time  in  the  afternoon  before  he  left  the  house  of 
his  hospitable  entertainer. 

But  now  shaking  Mr.  M'Pherson  by  the  hand,  Langdon 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  toward  the  city  in  a  rapid  gallop, 
with  Old  Toney  close  behind  him  in  the  rear.  They  had 
been  riding  in  this  way  for  several  miles,  until  they  reached 
the  celebrated  Jasper  Spring,  two  or  three  miles  from  Sa- 
vannah, on  the  Augusta  road.  It  had  been  a  spot  fatal  to 
the  life  of  more  than  one  man  ;  for  here  Sergeant  Jasper, 
with  a  single  fellow-soldier,  had  shot  down  the  British 
guard,  to  whom  had  been  intrusted  several  valuable  Ameri- 
can citizens  as  prisoners.  In  the  distance,  Jasper  and  his 
friend  had  built  several  fires  equidistant,  to  resemble  the 
camp-fires  of  the  American  army.  Then,  creeping  silently, 
and  with  cat-like  tread  upon  the  foe,  Jasper  and  his  friend 
fired  upon  the  enemy,  and  rushing  in  with  clubbed  mus- 


76  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

ketSj  dashed  out  the  brains  of  some  who  resisted,  and  made 
prisoners  of  the  remainder.  Imagine  the  astonishment  of 
the  British,  when  they  afterward  discovered  that  the  sup- 
posed camp-fires  were  only  deceitful  lights,  kindled  by  their 
two  daring  captors,  whose  plan  was  to  impose  upon  them 
the  belief  that  the  fires  which  they  saw  were  the  camp-fires 
of  the  American  army,  and  that  the  two  men  who  had  sprung 
so  suddenly  upon  them  was  only  the  advance-guard  of  the 
avengers  of  liberty,  hurled  as  a  thunderbolt  in  their  midst. 

The  heroism  of  Jasper  is  a  household  word  among  us,  and 
his  history  had  been  known  and  read  with  delight  by  young 
Shelton.  He  had  not  forgotten  to  ask  Mr.  McPherson  where 
was  the  locality,  and  was  surprised  to  learn  that  he  had 
passed  by  the  very  spot  the  day  before,  where  one  of  the 
most  dashing,  heroic  deeds  had  been  performed,  during  our 
struggle  for  independence,  which  has  ever  been  recorded 
upon  the  bright  page  of  history.  Langdon  was  now  ap- 
proaching this  celebrated  spring,  which,  in  itself  considered, 
possesses  no  ordinary  attractions  to  the  traveler.  But,  for 
the  name  of  the  thing,  and  because  the  gallant  young  Caro- 
linian loved  a  heroic  and  a  chivalric  deed,  whether  performed 
by  the  lowly  or  the  great,  he  had  determined  to  dismount 
as  soon  as  he  had  reached  the  wayside  fountain,  and  drink 
a  deep  draught  of  its  cooling  waters,  even  as  Jasper  had 
drank  deep  at  the  fountain  of  liberty. 

With  this  patriotic  intention,  and  with  such  thoughts  as 
these  revolving  in  his  mind,  he  had  checked  his  horse  when 
a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  spot  where  he  supposed  the 
spring  to  be  located.  He  had  been  told  that  it  was  on  the 
left  side  of  the  road  as  he  returned  to  the  city ;  and  that 
he  would  know  when  he  was  approaching  it  by  a  deep  bay 
which  either  gave  rise  to,  or  was  formed  by  the  spring. 
Shelton  had  already  reached  the  spring,  and  was  looking 
clown  into  its  limpid  waters  as  they  purled  upward  and  then 
passed  into  the  bay.  Old  Toney  was  just  behind  his  young 
master,  and  was  about  to  rein  in  his  horse,  also,  when  he 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND -PIRATE.  77 

heard  the  sharp  click  as  of  a  pistol  set  on  trigger;  ailcl  his 
horse  taking  fright  at  the  noise,  or  at  some  object  in  the 
bushes,  reared  and  plunged,  and  then  dashed  off  at  full  speed 
with  the  bit  in  his  mouth.  It  was  in  vain  that  Old  Toney 
pulled  upon  the  reins;  the  frightened  animal  could  not  fee 
restrained;  nor  did  he  recover  from  his  fright  until  he 
reached  that  part  of  the  city  now  occupied  by  the  Central 
Railroad  Depot,  which  was  then  one  of  the  suburbs,  and 
known  as  "Yamacraw." 

Old  Toney  then,  and  not  until  then,  succeeded  in  toning 
his  horse's  head,  and  rode  back  under  whip  and  spur,  fearing 
nothing  for  himself,  although   he   dreaded  everything  for 
his   young  master.     That  a  robbery  was  contemplated  by 
some  one  concealed  in  the  thicket  he  did  not  doubt;  that 
a  murder  had  been  committed,  his  instincts  of  affection  caused 
him  greatly  to  fear.     As  his  horse  dashed  off  at  full  speed, 
and  before  he  had  even  attained  the  distance  of  fifty  yards' 
the  report  of  a  pistol  had  rung  upon  the  air,  causing  his 
horse  to  make  a  longer  leap,  and  to  give  a  wilder  snort  of 
terror.     Who  had  fired  that  pistol?  or  was  it  the  click  of  a 
shot-gun  which  he  had  heard  ?  and  was  it  the  faint  echo  of  a 
barrel  of  small  caliber,  loaded  with  bird-shot,  and  fired  just 
then  at  some  feathered  songster  by  some  truant  boy  ?  ' 

A  thousand  conjectures  rushed  into  the  mind  of  the  old 
negro ;  all  acting  as  so  many  spurs  to  his  haste,  and  lending 
strength  to  his  arm.     But  if  before  he  had  not  strength 
enough   to   hold  in  the  frightened   courser,  he  lacked   the 
power  now  to  urge  forward,  as  fast  as  he  desired,  the  jaded 
panting  steed;  and  he  arrived  at  the  Jasper  Spring  only  at 
an  ordinary  hand  gallop.     There  were  no  signs  of  his  master 
there,  and  his  horse  was  gone.     But  a  little  way  up  the  road 
Old  Toney  discovered  several  drops  of  blood ;   and  as  he 
traced  these,  as  he  used  to  do  a  trail  of  blood  upon  the  leaves 
and  grass  of  the  Cherokee  and  Seminole  war-fields,  the  old 
veteran  halted  as  he  saw,  with  amazement,  just  before  him, 
quite  a  pool  of  blood ;  and  there  was  the  spot  where  he  felt 


78  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

convinced  the  body  of  his  dear  young  master  lay.  He  sat 
down  upon  the  grass  by  the  roadside  and  wept  and  sobbed 
as  if  his  heart  would  break.  Then,  as  if  resolved  to  discover 
the  murderer,  and  avenge  the  death  of  his  young  master,  he 
rose  from  his  cool,  damp  seat,  and  followed  the  tracks  of  the 
horse.  He  saw  no  more  blood,  and  then  he  turned  back  and 
stood  again  by  the  crimson  pool.  He  could  trace  the  red 
drops  backward,  but  he  could  find  none  either  upon  the 
right  hand  or  the  left.  Again  he  mounted  his  horse,  and. 
followed  the  fresh  trail  of  the  animal  which  his  master  had 
rode.  But  in  a  little  while  he  came  to  other  roads  and 
other  tracks;  and  night  had  settled  down  so  fast  that  he 
could  no  longer  distinguish  any  signs.  He  determined, 
therefore,  to  return  in  haste  to  the  city  and  inform  Mr. 
Hartwell  of  the  melancholy  circumstances,  and  secure  his 
aid  in  discovering  the  fact  whether  a  murder  had,  in  reality, 
been  committed.  But  his  jaded  horse  carried  him  back  to 
the  city  much  slower  than  he  wished,  and  to  his  distress 
of  mind  was  added  the  discomfort  of  a  pelting  rain.  The 
lightning  flashed  and  blazed  in  broad  sheets  as  very  rarely 
blazes  beneath  a  Southern  sky.  The  thunder  rolled  and 
rattled  like  the  united  reports  of  a  thousand  cannon.  Peal 
after  peal,"  and  flash  after  flash,  burst  forth  from  the  dark 
bosom  of  the  angry  cloud,  as  though  Jehovah,  in  his  wrath, 
was  rebuking  the  sins  of  wicked  men.  But,  by  all  this  storm, 
Old  Toney  was  unmoved  by  any  unmanly  fear.  Although 
he  might  feel  awful  in  the  presence  of  his  God,  and  with 
the  conviction  firmly  riveted  upon  his  mind  that  his  young 
master,  whom  he  so  tenderly  loved  as  his  own  offspring,  had 
been  most  foully  murdered  at  the  Jasper  Spring ;  although 
these  circumstances  might  fill  his  mind  with  awe,  yet  the 
brave  old  negro  had  no  fears  for  himself.  Old  Toney,  in 
common  parlance,  "had  heard  it  thunder  before."  He  had 
seen  the  fire -flash  of  artillery  blaze  through  the  thick  smoke 
of  battle  ;  and  had  heard  the  terrific  war-whoop  of  the  Indian 
savage   screamed   in   his   ears  with   diabolical   energy,  and 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  79 

issuing,  simultaneously,  from  a  thousand  savage  voices.  He 
had  seen  blood  enough  shed  in  his  lifetime  to  swim  a  horse, 
or,  perhaps,  to  float  even  a  man-of-war  vessel.  But  all  the 
sounds  and  sights  combined  of  the  most  bloody  contest  he 
had  ever  witnessed,  had  never  made  him  tremble  so  as  when 
he  stood,  for  the  first  time,  by  the  little  pool  of  blood  which 
his  instincts  told  him  was  no  other  than  the  blood  of  his 
dear  young  master.  Nor  could  he  easily  recover  from  the 
panic  and  the  grief  with  which  he  was  so  deeply  affected 
by  the  sight  of  that  crimson  pool. 

When  Old  Toney  reached  the  residence  of  Mr.  Hartwell 
it  was  late  at  night,  and  though  drenched  to  the  skin  the 
rain  had  ceased  to  fall.  With  difficulty  had  he  succeeded 
in  arousing  any  of  the  servants  ;  and  it  was  not  until  repeated 
knocks  and  loud  calls  that  he  at  length  gained  admittance 
into  the  yard.  Old  Bob  himself  answered  the  summons, 
and  was  surprised  to  see  the  jaded  condition  of  the  horse, 
who  seemed  to  be  both  thumped  and  wind-broken,  and  could 
scarcely  drag  one  foot  after  the  other. 

"What  you  been  do  to  my  hoss,  man,  for  mek  'urn  so? 
You  got  no  better  manners  den  to  go  and  borrow  a  hoss, 
and  den  ride  'urn  to  det?"  said  Old  Bob,  as  Old  Toney  led 
the  animal  into  the  stable. 

But  Old  Toney  answered  not  a  word  to  this  complaint,  which, 
at  another  time,  he  would  have  resented  as  an  insult  offered 
to  his  humanity.  His  heart  was  too  hardly  smitten  with 
grief,  and  too  well-nigh  broken  to  take  umbrage  at  any 
indignity  which  was  offered  him  now.  He  felt  that  he  was 
willing  to  be  trampled  upon  and  rolled  in  the  dust.  He 
would  have  regarded  it  as  a  friendly  blow,  and  would  have 
blessed  the  hand  that  had  laid  him  in  death  by  the  side, 
or  at  the  feet,  of  his  master's  corpse. 

"  Would  to  God  I  had  died  for  him  ! "  he  thought  within 
himself,  and  groaned  so  deep  and  loud  that  Old  Bob,  as 
provoked  as  he  was,  started  in  amazement. 

"What  de  matter,  Old  Toney?"  said  Old  Bob,  in  tones 


80  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

of  sympathy  and  curiosity  combined;  "something  seems 
to  be  a  weighin'  on  your  mind.  Tell  your  brudder  what  de 
matter." 

"I  want  to  see  your  masser,  Mr.  Hartwell,"  was  the  only 
reply  of  the  old  man,  whose  whole  manner  as  well  as  the 
very  inflections  of  his  voice  seemed  shared  by  the  mourning 
spirit  within  him. 

"My  masser  can't  be  seed  !  He  is  fast  asleep  in  his  bed, 
and  would  n't  be  woke  up  dis  time  o' night  for  nothin'  less 
dan  a  dollar  and  a  half,  or  mebbe  a  dollar,  if  it 's  gib  to 
me !  "  was  Bob's  answer,  as  he  drew  himself  up  with  all  the 
dignity  of  a  cotton  sampler. 

"I  must  see  your  masser  now — dis  minute!" 

"  Dat's  easier  said  dan  done,  old  man.  I  tell  you  I  can't 
wake  'urn  up  unless  it  be  a  case  ob  life  and  det." 

"  It  is  a  case  ob  life  and  det,  as  you  say !  My  nyung 
masser,  wat  went  wid  me,  has  been  murdered  on  de  road  " 

"  Murdered  !  You  do  n't  say  so  !  Who  kill  ?  "  exclaimed 
Old  Bob,  with  consternation  in  his  countenance,  which  was 
now  lighted  by  the  gleam  of  the  lantern,  as  its  light  flashed 
upon  his  sable  features. 

"  I  do  n't  know  who  did  it,"  was  Old  Toney's  reply  ;  "  but 
I  know  dat  God's  almighty  vengeance  will  obertake  de  guilty 
and  bring  de  murderer  some  day  to  the  gallows.  May  Grod 
punish  de  wretch  who  killed  my  Masser  Langdon." 

The  solemn  tones  of  the  old  man's  voice,  coupled  with 
the  awful  nature  of  his  communication,  filled  Old  Bob  with 
a  feeling  of  mysterious  awe,  and  he  felt  a  chill  creeping- 
over  him,  which  increased  to  such  a  degree  that  his  teeth 
fairly  chattered  and  clacked  together  as  though  the  spirit 
of  the  murdered  man  had  suddenly  appeared  before  them. 
Curiosity  and  cunning  have  been  said  to  be  the  most  strik- 
ing traits  of  the  negro  chafacter,  and  doubtless  they  are 
prominent  characteristics  of  his  nature.  But  the  most 
marked  and  prominent  features  of  the  African,  which  have 
been  thus  far  so  feebly  portrayed,  are  his  superstition  and  his 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    f.  AND -PIRATE.  81 

fidelity  to  his  master.  He  believes  in  ghosts,  and  trembles 
at  bis  own  shadow  when  any  startling  circumstance  reminds 
him  that  the  hour  has  come  when  the  troubled  spirits  of 
the  departed  walk  forth  in  unrest  from  their  graves.  That 
hour  had  now  arrived,  and  it  was  natural  that  Old  Bob 
should  draw  closer  to  his  companion,  and  even  take  him 
affectionately  by  the  hand. 

"Come,  Bruddcr  Toney,"  said  he,  coaxingly,  "let's  go 
to  masser  and  tell  'urn  all  about  it.  My  masser  is  a  berry 
kind  man,  and  I  know  he  will  be  as  sorry  as  me  when  you 
tell  him  de  perticklars." 

Mr.  Hartwell  was  easily  aroused  from  his  slumbers,  and, 
on  hearing  the  statement  of  Old  Toney,  lost  no  time  in 
sending  immediately  for  a  magistrate.  The  nearest  magis- 
trate lived  but  a  little  way  from  Mr.  IlartweH's,  and  he 
came  very  promptly  at  the  summons  of  that  gentleman.  A 
constable  was  afterward  sent  for,  and  after  hearing  the  story, 
several  times  repeated,  of  Colonel  Shclton's  old  servant,  they 
determined  to  take  him  along  with  them,  to  see  if  they  could 
discover  any  traces  which  might  lead  to  the  detection  of 
crime,  if  crime  had  indeed  been  committed.  As  soon  as 
the  day  dawned,  therefore,  the  party  sallied  forth  in  quest 
of  evidences  of  guilt ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  they  were 
led  by  Old  Toney  to  the  Jasper  Spring,  on  the  Augusta 
road. 

"  Here,  sir,  my  nyung  masser  sat  upon  his  horse.  It  was 
de  berry  last  time  I  ebber  saw  him." 

Old  Toney's  voice  trembled  so  that  he  could  scarcely  ar- 
ticulate the  words.  He  beckoned  to  the  three  gentlemen  to 
follow  him  on  a  little  further.  He  had  dismounted  from  his 
horse  at  the  Jasper  Spring,  and  the  three  gentlemen  did  like- 
wise. They  followed  after  the  old  man  on  foot,  leading  their 
horses,  also,  by  the  bridle  ;  and  when  Old  Toney  reached 
the  spot  where  had  once  been  the  pool  of  blood,  he  added, 
"  And  here  " but  he  could  say  nothing  more.  The  fount- 
ains of  his  soul  were  all  opened  again,  and  the  old  man's 
4* 


82  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    3IASTER  J    OR, 

heart  seemed  to  bleed  .afresh.  He  sunk  down  upon  the 
grass  as  before,  or,  rather,  as  if  he  had  been  pressed  down 
by  the  invisible  but  irresistible  pressure  of  some  giant 
phantom's  hand,  than  as  if  yielding  to  a  natural  impulse. 

Mr.  Havtwell  was  greatly  moved  by  the  unmistakable  evi- 
dences of  the  old  man's  grief.  He  pulled  his  handkerchief 
from  his  pocket  and  held  it  to  his  eyes ;  and  when  he  re- 
moved it  from  his  face,  his  eyes  were  red  with  weeping. 

But  neither  the  magistrate  nor  the  constable  seemed  to 
be  at  all  concerned  by  the  distress  of  Old  Toney.  These 
men  of  the  law  seem  to  possess  iron  hearts,  and  to  be  heed- 
less of  suffering  when  they  are  called  upon  to  act  in  their 
official  capacity.  Doubtless  some  of  them  may  feel  as  men, 
or  would  do  so,  if  they  allowed  themselves  to  be  controlled 
by  their  natural  instincts.  But  they  steel  themselves  against 
all  emotions,  and  seem,  at  least  to  others,  not  to  feel,  while 
oceans  of  tears  may  be  falling  in  their  presence.  If  they 
weep  not  in  the  court-house,  however  distressing  to  others 
may  be  the  circumstances,  they  would  not  weep  now,  when 
they  saw  nothing  to  weep  about,  as  they  supposed.  Indeed, 
so  far  from  weeping,  the  constable  even  smiled,  and  stooping 
down,  examined  closely  the  spot  which  had  been  indicated  by 
Old  Toney  as  the  place  where  he  had  seen  the  blood.  He 
examined  it  long  and  very  attentively,  but  saw  nothing  to  in- 
duce him  to  believe  that  there  had  ever  been  any  blood  there. 

"  This  is  a  pretty  tale  you  have  been  telling  us,  old  man," 
said  the  suspicious  and  hard-hearted  constable.  "I  am 
afraid  you  have  been  telling  us  a  lie,  and  have  brought  us 
upon  a  wild-goose  chase." 

"Me  tell  you  lie,  masser?"  said  Old  Toney,  rising  in  as- 
tonishment. "Why,  masser,  as  old  a  man  as  I  is,  Colonel 
Shelton  nebber  said  sich  a  word  to  me  before." 

"  Well,  then,  show  us  the  blood,"  said  the  constable,  with 
some  degree  of  excitement  and  mortification  at  the  dignified 
rebuke  of  the  old  negro. 

"Why,  masser,  how  can  I  show  you?     God  has  wiped 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  83 

out  wid  his  tears  de  murderer's  mark.  I  do  n't  know  wed- 
der  to  spare  de  guilty  wretch  a  little  longer,  or  wedder  de 
good  Lord's  heart  was  so  filled  wid  grief  at  de  sight  ob  my 
nyung  masser  Langdon  lying  in  his  blood.  All  I  know  is 
dat  de  rain  poured  down  in  torrents  such  as  I  nebber  see 
before,  and  it  has  washed  clean  away  de  last  sign  ob  my 
poor  masser." 

The  old  man  could  say  no  more,  but  sobbed   out  again 
as  if  his  heart  would  certainly  break  this  time  ;  and  surely 
none  but  the  hard-hearted  or  the  narrow-minded  could,  for 
a  single    moment,  doubt  the   sincerity  of  his   grief.      Mr. 
Hartwell   did  not  once  doubt  it ;   but  the   law  has  a  hard 
heart  and  a  narrow  mind  in  regard  to  the  innocent ;  it  is 
only  tender  and  broad  and  comprehensive  in  reference  to 
the  guilty.      It  is  true  that  the  law  has  a  maxim  that  "it 
is  better  that  ninety  and  nine  guilty  persons  should  escape, 
than  one  innocent  man  should  suffer."     This  reads  beauti- 
fully, and  sounds  humane  in  theory.     But  when  the  inno- 
cent man — tho  purely  innocent — the  man  whom  our  natural 
instincts  and  moral  perceptions  declare  to  be  innocent — let 
such  an  one  come  within  the  grasp  of  the  law,  and  how  it 
delights   to   clutch   him   and   hold   him  fast,   if  only  for  a 
little  while,  just  to  let  him  feel  grateful  to  the  law  for  hav- 
ing proved  what  he  knew  before — how  very  innocent  he  is. 
If  a  rogue,  who  has  stolen  a  hundred  horses  in  his  time, 
is  put  in  the  prisoner's  box,  why,  then,  the  law  is  so  very 
merciful  that  she  could  not  hang  or  imprison  him ;  and,  ten 
chances  to  one,  she  convinces  not  only  the  jury,  but  the  vil- 
lain himself,  that  he  never  had  committed  a  theft  in  his  life. 
But  let  the  evidence  be  circumstantial  only ;  let  there  be 
suspicion  breathed  against  one,  be  he   never   so   innocent, 
and  see  how  hard  is  the  effort  to  stain  and  defame  the  un- 
fortunate man,  who   is   either   too   innocent,  or   not  guilty 
enough,  to  excite  or  deserve  the  mercy  of  the  law.     This 
fact  can  be  explained  only  upon  the  principle  that  there  is 
"  honor  among  thieves,"  and  a  wonderful  fellowship  in  ras- 


84  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER  J    OR, 

cality.  For,  while  the  law  would  rather  that  "ninety  and 
nine  guilty  persons  should  escape,"  she  would  gladly  hang 
the  innocent  man  to  make  the  number  an  even  hundred. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  the  constable  smiled  when  he  should 
have  wept,  as  did  the  generous-hearted  and  noble-minded  Mr. 
Hartwell,  when  he  looked  with  sympathy  upon  the  sorrow- 
smitten  old  negro. 

As  Mr.  Hartwell  returned  with  the  two  myrmidons  of  the 
law  to  the  city,  they  conversed  together  in  low,  but  very 
earnest  tones.  Old  Toney,  who  followed  them  in  the  rear,  at 
a  distance  of  ten  or  twelve  paces,  knew  not  that  the  conver- 
sation concerned  himself  alone  ;  and  that  the  burden  of 
the  argument  urged  by  the  constable,  and  assented  to  in 
silence  by  the  magistrate,  was,  that  in  all  probability  a 
murder  had  been  committed ;  but  that,  inasmuch  as  Old 
Toney  had  pointed  out  no  guilty  party  upon  whom  the  law 
might  take  recourse,  suspicion  must  necessarily  attach  to 
himself  until  he  was  proved  innocent. 

"What  else  must  we  conclude?"  said  the  constable,  who 
was  backed  even  by  the  usually  silent  magistrate,  who 
seemed  to  depend  upon  his  minion  as  the  owner  of  a  blood- 
hound depends  upon  the  keen  scent  of  the  animal  to  follow 
up  a  trail  which  he  can  neither  smell  nor  see  himself. 

"What  else  must  we  conclude?"  said  he,  in  reply  to  Mr. 
Hartwell's  entreaty  to  let  Old  Toney  alone,  and  let  him 
return  to  his  master ;  for  how  could  it  be  possible  that  Old 
Toney  should  be  guilty  of  the  murder  of  his  young  master, 
Langdon  Shelton  ?  "  Will  you  vouch  for  his  integrity  upon 
your  own  personal  knowledge  ?  Do  you  know  anything 
yourself  of  the  negro's  antecedents?" 

"  No !  I  never  saw  him  before.  But  I  know  Colonel 
Shelton  too  well  to  suppose  that  he  would  intrust  his  son 
to  the  care  of  a  servant  of  doubtful  character." 

"  That  may  be  all  very  true,  as  you  say,  Mr.  Hartwell. 
But  the  law  is  very  plain,  indeed,  upon  this  pint !  If  a  man 
is  suspected,  the  law  thinks  he  ought  to  have  a  chance  to 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  85 

clear  himself  and  prove  to  the  world  that  he  is  innocent; 
for  the  law  holds  him  guilty  until  he  proves  the  contrary!" 
The  crafty  constable  regarded  himself  as  the  representative 
of  the  law  and  the  guardian  of  her  honor.  If  he  suspected 
him,  of  course  the  law,  in  his  person,  suspected  him  also ! 
Verily,  the  law  is  made  up,  at  best,  of  persons  and  person- 
alities, and  the  only  thing  grand  or  glorious  about  her  is 
that  which  the  lawyers  and  judges,  who  are  the  priests  of 
her  altar,  themselves  admit — her  "glorious  uncertainties!" 

Mr.  Hartwell  knew  but  little  of  the  law,  and  cared  less 
about  it.  He  had  never  studied  its  technicalities,  nor  com- 
mitted to  memory  its  dogmas.  He  did  not  perceive,  there- 
fore, that  the  constable  had  stated,  perhaps  ignorantly,  the 
very  reverse  of  a  proposition;  and  had  reversed  a  rule 
which  would  be  a  "poor  one  if  it  didn't  work  both  ways!" 
Nor  did  he  perceive  the  innate  selfishness  of  the  man  who 
could  worry  and  distress  the  feelings  of  another  for  the  sake 
of  gain  ;  for  the  constable  was  all  the  while  thinking  that  he 
had  taken  a  disagreeable  ride  for  nothing,  and  was  likely  to 
receive  no  fee  nor  reward  for  his  faithfulness  in  attempting 
to  ferret  out  a  secret  offense  committed  against  the  law. 
Had  he  unbosomed  himself  to  Mr.  Hartwell,  and  plainly 
said  that  he  was  only  after  a  fee,  Mr.  Hartwell  would  have 
cheerfully  paid  him  his  demand  to  release  Old  Toney  from 
his  grasp  ;  but  this,  of  course,  the  constable  was  too  cun- 
ning and  worldly-wise  to  do.  Hence  he  said,  in  continuation 
of  his  previous  remarks  : 

"  This,  sir,  is  our  safest  plan.  If  we  should  do  any  other 
way,  we  might  render  ourselves  liable." 

Mr.  Hartwell  was  a  mild  as  well  as  a  kind  man.  Indeed, 
arc  they  not  almost  inseparable  —  mildness  and  kindness? 
Me  made,  therefore,  no  further  objection  to  a  course  which 
he  foresaw,  almost  from  the  beginning.  was  a  foregone  con- 
clusion founded  upon  nothing  but  ignorance  or  blind  preju- 
dice. He  yielded  in  silence,  just  as  the  man  of  superior 
information  yields  to  the  boastful  assertions  or  vain  teach- 


86  OLD  TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

ings  of  the  ignorant,  or  the  artful  pretender,  who  attempts 
to  convict  the  man  of  learning  of  being  a  fool  while  he  is 
himself  the  wiseacre. 

When  the  party  had  returned  to  Mr.  Hartwell's  house, 
breakfast  was  already  upon  the  table,  and  the  magistrate 
and  the  constable  were  politely  requested  to  sit  down  and 
partake  of  the  morning's  repast.  This  is  a  meal  which 
usually  consumes  but  a  few  moments,  and  which  most  men 
eat  either  sparingly  or  in  a  hurry.  But  quicker  than  usual 
did  the  constable  swallow  his  meal,  and  nudging  the  magis- 
trade  with  his  elbow,  he  said : 

"  Come,  John,  make  haste  and  write  out  your  warrant  for 
a  commitment,  for  I  must  be  going." 

"Will  Mr.  Hartwell  favor  me  with  a  pen  and  ink?"  said 
the  magistrate,  bowing  his  head  politely  to  Mr.  Hartwell, 
for  he  possessed  more  native  refinement  than  the  constable, 
and  he  added  : 

"  This,  sir,  is  only  to  be  on  the  safe  side.  Of  course, 
there  will  be  no  further  proceedings  against  the  negro  until 
his  master  arrives  from  Carolina.  You  will,  of  course,  write 
to  him?" 

Of  course,  sir,  immediately,  and  by  a  trusty  messenger. 
Walk  in,  sir,  to  the  library ;  my  secretary  is  at  your  service." 

The  warrant  for  arrest  and  commitment  to  jail  was  soon 
written  out  against  Old  Tone}^,  and  placed  in  the  hands  of 
the  constable,  who  put  it  into  his  pocket,  and,  without  any 
further  ceremony,  walked  down  into  the  back  yard,  and  calling 
forth  Old  Toney,  who  had  ensconced  himself  in  the  kitchen, 
said,  in  those  startling,  harsh  tones,  which  only  a  constable 
or  a  policeman  can  assume  : 

"You  are  my  prisoner;  come  along  with  me  to  jail." 

"To  jail,  massa  !  "  exclaimed  Old  Toney,  in  amazement. 
"Me  go  to  jail?     Wha'  fur?" 

"Never  mind  what  for;  you  will  find  out  by-and-by. 
Come  along!  "  and  he  seized  him  rudely  by  the  arm  to  lead 
him  away. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  87 

It  was  just  at  this  precise  moment  that  one  of  the  boat- 
hands  who  had  rowed  them  to  town — it  was  the  same  one 
who  had  led  the  stroke-oar,  and  whom  the  reader  remembers 
as  the  author  of  the  very  poetic  effusion  and  impromptu 
boat-song  recorded  in  the  first  part  of  the  previous  chap- 
ter— Cresar,  aj>proached  Old  Toney  with  a  sorrowful  counte- 
nance. 

"Uncle  Toney,"  said  the  simple-hearted  negro,  "I  yerry 
.ebery  t'ing,  and  I  berry  sorry  for  you  !  But  enty  I  tell  you  so  ? 
Your  nyung  masscr  wouldn't  beliebc  me;  and  you  gone, 
like  a  foolish  old  man,  and  mck  bad  wusser  !  You  ought 
to  'a  hab  more  sense,  Uncle  Toney,  fur  go  and  talk  dat  bat 
t'ing  name  !  I  tell  you,  no  good !  Berry  bad  luck  will 
always  follow  a  man  who  talk  dat  wicked  t'ing  name,  on  dc 
water  'specially !  " 

Old  Toney  did  not  make  any  reply  to  this  taunt  or  re- 
proof. He  drew  himself  up  with  dignity — with  the  dignity  of 
an  old  king  who  is  deserted  by  his  former  courtiers,  and 
spit  at  and  reviled  by  his  enemies,  who  heap  reproaches 
upon  him  for  his  extravagance  or  pretended  crimes.  He 
made  no  remonstrance  to  the  order  of  the  officer ;  he  neither 
admitted  nor  denied  the  reproof  of  the  boatman.  In  silence 
he  followed  his  harsh  captor  to  the  city  jail,  which  then 
stood  alone  upon  "  the  common "  in  stern  solitude  and 
gloomy  isolation.  It  was  a  large,  and  a  dingy,  and  a  very 
cheerless-looking  brick  building ;  and  as  the  large  door  of 
one  of  the  rooms  opened  and  swung  back  upon  its  hinges  to 
admit  the  prisoner,  and  as  the  jailer  turned  the  large  key 
in  the  huge  lock,  and  Old  Toney  felt  that  he  icas,  indeed, 
locked  in  from  the  icorld  !  —  shut  up  in  a  prison  for  no  crime 
whatever  —  then,  Old  Toney  couldn't  help  admitting  to 
himself  that  "  the  salt-water  nigger  was  more  than  half 
right,"  to  say  the  least;  uit  was  berry  bad  luck  to  say 
1  alligator,''  and  mcbbe,':  he  added  mentally,  "  to  fink  'bout  'em, 
too!  Please  God,  I  don't  t'irik  I  will  ebber  call  dc  name 
ob  dat  ting  again  !  " 


88  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

Poor  old  man !  The  superstition  of  his  earlier  life,  which 
had  heen  almost  eradicated  by  his  daily  intercourse  with  his 
intelligent  master,  had  returned  upon  him  with  ten-fold 
power,  from  a  single  fatal  coincidence.  There  was  proof 
now,  tangible  proof,  that  it  was  no  chimera,  no  vain  nor 
foolish  precaution  to  avoid  the  mention  of  a  name  which  had 
brought  him  a  great  deal  of  bad  luck,  and  had  overwhelmed 
him  with  trouble.  The  cold,  damp  walls  of  his  prison,  and 
the  grated  bars  of  his  window,  would  every  day  admonish 
him  that  "  it  was,  indeed,  berry  bad  luck  to  call  de  name 
ob  dat  t\ing." 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  89 


CHAPTEK    VI. 

S  soon  as  Old  Toney  was  carried  off  to  prison,  Mr. 
Hartwcll  very  considerately  sat  down  and  wrote  a 
\^)°  kind  letter  of  condolence  and  sympathy  to  Colonel 
^p  Shelton,  which  he  placed  in  the  hands  of  his  own 
faithful  old  man,  Bob.  Every  Southern  planter  (and 
even  merchant)  has  at  least  one  faithful  old  servant.  And 
by  this  we  do  not  mean  to  say  that  he  has  but  one;  but 
that  this  particular  servant  is,  par  excellence,  the  very  prince 
of  all  faithful  servants  ;  standing,  in  the  estimation  of  his 
master,  a  head  and  shoulders  taller  than  all  the  rest ;  out- 
rivaling far  the  devotion  of  the  affectionate  spaniel,  and 
receiving,  in  return,  an  unselfish  love,  greater  even  than  the 
undying  attachment  of  the  Arab  chieftain  for  his  winged 
steed  of  the  desert. 

Mr.  Hartwcll,  who  thought  he  possessed  such  a  treasure 
in  Old  Bob,  knew  how  to  sympathize  both  with  the  master 
at  a  distance  and  Old  Toney  in  the  jail.  While  he  sent, 
therefore,  condoling  words  by  his  special  and  trusty  mes- 
senger, upon  whom  he  could  rely  with  confidence,  he  did 
not  forget  to  visit  the  old  negro  in  prison,  to  minister  to 
his  temporal  wants,  and  to  cheer  his  almost  broken  heart 
with  words  of  hope,  that  his  master  would  soon  arrive  in 
the  city  and  liberate  him  from  his  place  of  captivity  and 
confinement. 

Old  Bob  took  the  place  of  Old  Toney  in  the  boat,  which 
he  steered  in  safety  to  the   landing   of  Mr.   Steady;    and 


90  OLD   TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

taking  Old  Toney's  black  liorse,  he  rode,  in  a  brisk  trot, 
for  the  up-country.  But  he  did  not  ride  as  fast  as  Old 
Toney  rode  that  stormy  evening,  when,  maddened  by  the 
sudden  and  unlooked-for  loss  of  his  young  master,  he  seemed 
like  a  mad  hippogriff,  urged  onward  by  a  single  and  undi- 
vided influence. 

If  Old  Bob  could  feel  for  Old  Toney  in  his  distress,  he 
could  feel  also  for  his  horse  ;  and  with  the  vain-glory  and 
exultant  spirit  of  the  Pharisee,  who  said,  "  I  thank  thee, 
Lord,  that  I  am  not  as  other  men,  extortioners,  unjust, 
adulterers,"  Old  Bob  added,  in  spirit  if  not  in  substance, 
"  and  not  even  as  horse-killers."  For  he  patted  Old  Toney's 
coal-black  steed  upon  the  neck  as  he  came  to  a  running 
stream,  and  encouraged  the  animal  to  drink  to  his  heart's 
content ;  speaking  in  a  peculiarly  coaxing  tone,  but  using 
language  which  the  horse  would  have  construed  into  a 
downright  insult  if  he  had  understood  all  the  words  em- 
ployed in  the  vocabulary  of  the  Anglo-African  dialect. 

"Old  Toney  berry  hard  on  horse,  enty?  He  kill  my 
horse  to  Savannah,  enty?  Berry  well.  Me  no  gwine  to 
hu't  you  for  pay.  Old  Toney  in  jail  now,  you  know.  I 
better  man  to  horse  dan  Old  Toney.  Old  Toney  broke  my 
horse  bellows,  so  ee  let  out  all  de  wind.  Nebber  mind ;  I 
can  mend  yours  if  ee  git  broke.  But  I  wont  broke  'ilia. 
Old  Bob  ain't  hard  on  a  horse.  Aldo'  I  say  it  myself,  I 
t'ank  de  Lord  I  is  better  dan  most  niggers." 

Thus  soliloquizing,  Old  Bob  jogged  on  much  slower  than 
before,  as  if  determined  to  prove  to  the  horse's  entire  sat- 
isfaction the  truth  of  his  remarks ;  and  to.  convince  him, 
by  the  pleasantness  of  the  journey,  that  he  was  indeed  a 
better  horse -master  than  his  sable  rival  now  lying  in  the 
city  jail  at  Savannah.  Now,  be  it  known,  that  the  Southern 
negro  is  famous  for  his  soliloquizing  propensities.  He  talks 
to  himself  upon  all  occasions  ;  talks  to  his  horse  in  the 
plow  ;  talks  continually  to  his  team  in  the  wagon ;  talks  to 
the  trees  of  the  forest ;  talks  to  the  winds    as  they  howl 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  91 

and  rage  aloft ;  to  any  and  everything  lie  talks,  whether  of 
animate  or  inanimate  nature — whether  to  beast  or  to  fowl  ; 
whether  to  the  fishes  or  to  the  senseless  stone.  It  is  all 
the  same  to  him  what  the  object  is;  he  talks  to  it  for  com- 
pany ;  or,  if  for  nothing  more,  to  while  away  the  tedious- 
ness  of  a  lonely  hour.  Not  that  he  ever  feels  lonely.  0, 
no  !  He  has  thoughts  enough,  and  fertile  resources  enough 
to  prevent  him  from  ever  feeling  lonely.  But  if  he  should 
happen  "  to  get  the  blues" — which,  according  to  his  physical 
organization,  or,  rather,  epidermic  constitution,  would  seem 
to  be  an  impossibility — why,  then,  it  would  be  the  easiest 
thing  in  the  world  for  him  to  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep; 
thus  forgetting  all  his  troubles,  not  in  " five  minutes"  as 
we  usually  say  of  a  man  who  is  a  ready  sleeper,  or  "  by 
the  time  his  head  touches  the  pillow,"  but  in  the  "twink- 
ling of  an  eye,"  and,  as  it  often  seems,  a  good  while  before 
he  has  even  made  tip  his  mind  to  sleep  at  all. 

When  the  negro  is  tired  of  himself  or  the  world,  there- 
fore, and  tired  of  soliloquizing,  or  singing,  or  whistling,  he 
can  go  to  sleep,  whether  standing  or  lying  down,  whether 
riding  or  walking.  And  this  is  what  Old  Bob  now  did  as 
he  jogged  along,  nodding  to  the  trees  with  the  stateliness 
of  the  "black  knight"  upon  his  coal-black  steed,  bowing 
to  a  Saxon  host,  with  waving  banners,  whom  he  had  come 
from  prison  and  exile  to  claim  as  his  own,  and  whom  they, 
in  return,  would  acknowledge,  as  the  "  Coeur  de  Lion"  whom 
they  adored.  We  do  not  mean  to  intimate,  by  any  means, 
that  the  simile  is  a  perfect  one  ;  or  that,  as  Old  Bob's  head 
leaned  far  back  toward  the  crupper,  and  then  returned 
slowly  until  it  touched  the  horse's  mane,  that  the  trees,  in 
return,  waved  their  branches  and  shook  their  green  tops 
like  so  many  banners  rustled  in  the  air.  We  mean  simply 
to  intimate  that  Old  Bob  nodded  and  slept  with  a  vim 
which  no  other  than  a  negro  can  imitate  in  slumber. 

Some  one — no  matter  who — has  said,  "  It  is  God  who 
steeps  the  mind  in    Lethe,  and  bids  us  slumber,  that  our 


92  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS    MASTER  J    OR, 

bodies  may  be  refreshed,  so  that  for  to-morrow's  toil  we 
may  rise  recruited  and  strengthened."  But  surely  Old  Bob 
needed  no  rising  up  from  his  slumbers,  for  he  had  never 
got  down,  and  "recruited  and  strengthened"  his  energies 
as  he  went  along.  Thus  "recruited  and  strengthened,"  he 
arrived,  on  the  second  day  after  his  departure  from  home, 
at  the  residence  of  Colonel  Shelton,  who  was  already  be- 
ginning to  feel  anxious  at  Langdon's  delay. 

But  if  the  old  Colonel's  heart  was  overwhelmed  with 
sorrow  as  he  read  the  first  part  of  Mr.  Hartwell's  letter, 
informing  him,  in  the  most  cautious  terms,  of  the  uncertain 
fate  of  his  son,  and  sympathizing,  in  heartfelt  expressions, 
in  a  parent's  anxiety,  great  was  his  indignation  also,  when 
Mr.  Hartwell  informed  him  that  Old  Toney,  his  faithful 
Old  Toney,  whom  not  only  he  and  his  family,  but  every 
one  else  in  the  community  loved  and  reverenced,  and  whom 
he  thought  everybody  else  in  the  world  ought  to  love  and 
reverence  also — that  his  tried  and  trusty  body-servant — the 
man  who  had  fought  by  his  side  as  a  fellow-soldier,  and 
through  whose  courage  and  by  whose  strong  right  arm  his 
life  had  been  more  than  once  saved  from  the  uplifted  toma- 
hawk of  the  Indian  savage.  0  !  it  was  too  bad  to  doubt 
such  a  man.  And  so  great  was  Colonel  Shelton's  indigna- 
tion, that  if,  at  that  moment,  he  could  have  seized  that 
meanest  of  all  men,  a  mean  constable,  he  would  have  torn 
that  off-cast  "limb  of  the  law"  limb  from  limb,  and  flung 
his  quivering  flesh  to  the  dogs  to  spurn,  or  snuff  at  with 
u j) -turned  noses  of  contempt.  The  indignation  of  Colonel 
Shelton  was  good  for  him  just  at  that  crisis,  so  trying  to 
his  heart's  best  and  holiest  affections.  It  prevented  the 
lion-hearted  old  Colonel  from  dying,  at  that  moment  from 
the  effects  of  so  sudden  and  overwhelming  a  calamity ;  for 
even  the  lion-hearted  Richard  of  England  died  at  last  of 
a  wound  inflicted  by  a  poisonous  arrow  ;  and  the  invincible 
Achilles  perished  from  a  simple  puncture  in  the  heel.  But 
the  brave  old  Colonel  had  received  a  deeper,  broader,  more 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  93 

frightful  wound  than  they ;  for  his  was  a  wound  of  the 
heart,  which  even  time  would  not,  could  not  heal.  But 
while  his  heart  was  bleeding  inwardly  with  grief  for  the  loss 
of  his  son,  it  was  boiling  outwardly  with  rage  at  the  indig- 
nity offered  to  his  old  servant  Toney,  by  his  false  imprison- 
ment. He  lost  no  time,  therefore,  in  mounting  his  horse, 
and  pushing  in  haste  for  Savannah,  to  liberate,  as  soon  as 
possible,  his  old  friend  and  fellow-soldier. 

When  Colonel  Shelton  reached  the  jail,  in  company  with 
Mr.  Hartwell,  and  was  led  by  the  jailer  to  the  prisoner's 
cell,  he  saw  Old  Toney,  with  a  sad  countenance  and  over- 
burdened heart,  leaning  against  the  damp  wall  of  the  prison. 
The  sight  of  the  brave  old  negro,  who  had  fought  and  shed 
his  blood  for  the  liberties  of  his  country,  and  the  aspect  of 
his  woe,  so  overcame  him  that  he  forgot  himself  entirely ; 
forgot  all  the  dignity  of  his  aristocratic  birth ;  forgot  the 
wide  difference  existing  between  them  as  master  and  servant ; 
forgot  the  presence  of  Mr.  Hartwell  and  the  jailer ;  forgot 
everything  in  that  moment  but  the  predominant  impulse 
of  his  noble,  god-like  heart,  and,  flinging  himself  into  Old 
Toney's  arms,  which,  just  then,  were  outreached,  as  if  im- 
ploring for  mercy  and  pitying  love,  the  white  man's  heart 
beat  and  throbbed  against  the  black  man's,  acknowledging 
that,  although  they  were  bond  and  free,  there  was  a  tie  of 
brotherhood — a  strong  and  adamantine  chain,  which  was  so 
indissoluble  that  it  could  only  be  severed  or  dissolved  by 
death. 

Yes,  hear  it,  ye  so-called  philanthropists,  who  would  shrink 
from  the  touch  of  the  black  man  and  think  it  pollution ! — 
ye  who  would  refuse  to  sit  down  by  his  side  and  give  him 
wholesome  advice  and  friendly  counsel,  but  who  will  stand 
off  at  a  distance,  and  poke  into  his  hand  a  pitiful  dime  or 
a  sixpence  stuck  into  the  end  of  a  "  ten-foot  pole!" — ye 
who  hate  and  curse  the  master,  and  preach  at  the  slave,  but 
can  never  know  the  wants,  nor  love  the  Ethiopian  as  a  man, 
come,  look  at  this  scene — this  prison   scene.      It  is  no  fan- 


i 


94  OLD   TONEY    AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

cied  sketch,  no  highly-colored  picture,  which  overdoes  the 
thing.  It  is  a  scene  which  we  have  witnessed  more  than 
once  in  seasons  of  affliction  and  distress.  It  is  a  scene 
which  many  a  Southern  man  has  witnessed,  and  to  which, 
perhaps,  some  of  our  Southern  members  of  Congress  can 
testify.  Behold  Colonel  Shelton — that  brave,  that  refined, 
that  accomplished  scholar  and  dignified  old  gentleman — 
weeping  like  a  child  upon  the  breast  of  his  slave !  With 
their  arms  twined  around  each  other,  they  are  sobbing  as 
two  brothers  long  separated,  and  but  now  united.  They 
are  weeping  as  two  wrecked  and  broken-hearted  mariners 
over  the  broken  hull  and  splintered  masts  of  a  once  gallant 
bark.  They  are  weeping  as  only  the  proud,  but  grief-smit- 
ten parent  and  the  loving,  doting  foster-father  can  weep, 
when,  standing  front  to  front,  they  cross  hands  over  the 
grave  of  a  dead  darling  who  was  dear  to  them  both — the 
legitimate  parent  and  the  foster-father. 

But  let  us  not  dwell  upon  this  scene,  so  painful  because 
so  true.  It  is  enough  to  say  that,  although  not  a  very  com- 
mon or  every-day  scene,  simply  because  great  occasions  do 
not  often  arise,  and  though  the  bowl  may  be  several  times 
cracked  at  the  fountain,  it  can  be  broken  but  once,  yet  such 
scenes  have  occurred  before,  and  will  occur  again,  although, 
perhaps,  but  once  in  a  life-time,  and  only  when  the  heart  is 
breaking  beneath  the  mountain  load  of  its  sorrow.  Colonel 
Shelton  s  heart  was  already  broken. 

When  Colonel  Shelton  had  again  recovered  his  habitual 
outward  control,  he  took  Old  Toney  by  the  hand  and  led 
him  out  of  the  prison.  He  asked  no  permission  of  the 
jailer,  and  paid  none  of  his  bills;  nor  would  he  have 
deigned  to  notice  them.  With  the  imperious  tread  of  the 
conqueror,  and  the  stern  look  of  the  emperor  whose  auto- 
crat is  law,  he  went  forth  from  the  prison  walls,  followed 
by  Old  Toney.  Only  once  did  Colonel  Shelton  express 
himself  in  terms  of  indignation  while  at  the  jail.  It  was 
while  standing  on  the  steps  for  a  moment  preparatory  to 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  95 

bidding  adieu,  with  his  accustomed  courtesy,  to  the  jailer, 
who  wns  himself  a  kind-hearted  man,  for  there  was  a  tear 
of  sympathy  in  his  eye,  which  Colonel  Shelton  observed  and 
appreciated. 

"  That  constable,"  said  the  Colonel,  addressing  himself  to 
Mr.  Hartwell,  "and  that  magistrate,  must  be  a  couple  of 
fools,  or  arrant  scoundrels." 

"  Perhaps  they  are  one  and  the  other — the  magistrate  and 
the  constable,"  replied  Mr.  Hartwell. 

"Nebber  mind  now,  masser,"  said  Old  Toney,  wjio  felt 
called  upon  to  make  a  last  thrust — a  home-thrust  at  his 
false  accusers.  "  Nebber  mind,"  said  he,  with  a  lip  curling 
upward  with  scorn.  "  'Tain't  no  use  to  fret  ober  it  now ;  we 
must  mek'  allowance  for  dem.  Dey  only  Georgy  Buckra. 
Georgy  Buckra,  masser,  ain't  like  we  Ca'lina  Buckra." 

Old  Toney  forgot  entirely,  in  addressing  Mr.  Hartwell, 
who  was  as  kind  and  as  gentlemanly  and  refined  as  his  mas- 
ter, that  he  was  addressing  a  thorough-bred  Georgian,  who 
gloried  in  his  native  state,  and  felt  a  peculiar  pride  in  the 
growing  prosperity  of  his  native  city ;  a  pride  equal  to  that 
which  the  most  patriotic  son  of  the  Palmetto  State  feels 
when  he  treads  again  his  native  soil,  after  an  absence  of 
many  months  or  years,  and  a  weary  wandering  in  the  land 

of  the  stranger,  and  says  in  his  heart  of  hearts : 

f 

"Yes,  my  native  land,  I  lovo  thee, 
Home  of  the  free  and  hravo  !  " 

But  Mr.  Hartwell  understood  Old  Toney  perfectly,  and 
smiled  pleasantly,  for  he  knew  that  the  old  negro  meant 
th.it  a  mean  rascal  who  claimed  to  be  a  Georgian,  was  not 
half  so  good  .is  a  thorough  gentleman  who  claimed  to  be  a 
Carolinian;  and  to  this,  Mr.  Hartwell  as  cheerfully  would 
assent  as  Old  Toney. 

But  Old  Toney  made  no  explanation  to  Mr.  Hartwell,  nor 
did  he  think  any  apology  necessary  to  that  gentleman,  who, 
in  addition  to  other  kindnesses,  shook  him  by  the  hand  as 


96  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

lie  stood  upon  the  wharf  just  below  the  Exchange,  express- 
in  g  his  regrets  at  the  treatment  which  he  had  received  in 
Savannah,  and  hoping  that  the  fresh  air  of  the  country  would 
soon  restore  him  to  his  former  equanimity  and  cheerfulness. 
Old  Toney  thanked  Mr.  Hartwell  for  his  kindness,  and  de- 
clared that  he  could  never  forget  him  while  he  had  breath 
in  his  body.  But  when  he  reached  the  water's  edge,  and 
before  entering  the  boat,  in  which  Colonel  Shelton  was 
already  seated,  he  pulled  off  both  his  shoes  very  deliber- 
ately, and  shook  all  the  sand  out  into  the  water.  After 
brushing  very  carefully  the  soles  with  his  coat  sleeve,  he 
held  his  shoes  up  toward  the  Exchange,  and  looking  at  the 
face  of  the  dial,  as  if  addressing  it  as  the  living  representa- 
tive of  the  city  of  Savannah,  which  could  both  see  and  hear 
him,  he  exclaimed,  with  a  solemnly  indignant  look  and  a 
threatening  frown : 

"  You  see,  you  enty ;  dey  is  clean  as  my  hand ;  I  shake 
de  berry  dust  off  my  feet  agin  you.  May  Old  Toney  never 
see  Georgy  state  as  long  as  he  lib  in  dis  sinful  world." 

And  to  make  good  his  words,  and  that  never  a  doubt 
might  be  raised  upon  the  subject,  Old  Toney  deliberately 
sat  down  and  washed  his  feet  at  the  river  dock ;  and  no 
doubt  they  needed  an  ablution,  and  helped  to  cool  clown  his 
wrathful  feelings. 

As  soon  as  the  old  man  to6k  his  seat  in  the  bow,  the 
boat  was  pushed  from  the  wharf,  and  Colonel  Shelton  and 
Mr.  Hartwell  waved  to  each  other  their  last  adieus.  They 
were  the  last  that  Colonel  Shelton  ever  waved  to  his  faith- 
ful old  friend ;  for  if  they  meet  again,  it  will  be  no  more  on 
earth,  but  in  heaven. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  97 


CHAPTER   VII. 

fHE  women  of  South  Carolina,  during  the  Revolution, 
were  famous  for  their  courage  and  endurance  under 
<p^    difficulties  and  dangers  which  even  "  tried  men's  souls." 
w?     There  were  heroines  those  days;  but  their  spirit  has 
not  died  out  from  the  hearts  of  their  daughters.     The 
heroism  of  '76  became  infused  into  the  daughters  of  '24  and 
'25,  and  still  continues  in  the  noble  women  of  1860. 

It  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  our  Southern  women 
are  a  lazy,  inactive,  good-for-nothing  set,  who  do  nothing 
but  read  novels  and  lie  down  all  day  in  the  summer,  fanned 
by  a  slave,  as  we  read  of  the  Turkish  harems.  We  know 
that  Northern  writers  who  have  seen  but  little  of  their  habits 
of  industry,  have  painted  them,  whether  in  admiration  or 
contempt,  as  indolent  and  dreamy,  and  requiring  a  great 
deal  of  "waiting  on"  by  their  numerous  servants.  This 
may  be  true  in  very  many  cases,  but  they  are  rather  exceptions 
to  the  general  rule  than  otherwise.  The  notion  that  the 
men  and  women  of  the  North  arc  more  energetic  and  in- 
dustrious than  those  of  the  South,  is  absurd,  and  false,  in 
fact.  The  Southern  lady  requires  no  more  "waiting  on" 
than  the  Northern  lady  with  equal  wealth  and  command 
of  servants,  or  "helps."  The  only  difference  is,  that  the 
one  sometimes  requires  the  aid  of  her  black  servant,  while 
the  other  calls  upon  her  white  serf.  The  difference,  there- 
fore, exists,  not  in  reality,  but  in  the  distinction  of  color ; 
and  if  there  are  "  lazy  women  in  the  world,  they  may  be 
5 


OS  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  J    OR, 

found  in  one  land  as  well  as  another;  just  as  glorious  women 
may  be  found  at  the  North  as  at  the  South,  in  England,  or  in 
France. 

Let  the  Northern  reader,  to  understand  this  statement — 
an  honest  and  a  truthful  one — enter  the  new  home  of  Colonel 
Shelton,  who  was,  but  a  short  time  since,  one  of  the  wealthiest 
magnates  of  the  land.  Behold  him  now  in  his  new  home. 
His  numerous  slaves  have  all  been  apportioned  out  among 
his  relatives  and  friends.  They  have  all  found  good  and 
kind  masters,  and  are  as  contented  as  they  can  well  be  away 
from  the  old  master  and  mistress  in  whose  ownership  they 
had  spent  so  much  of  their  life.  For,  be  it  known,  that  the 
African  slave,  if  he  has  been  faithful,  never  forgets  his  old 
master  and  his  old  home ;  for  around  them  both  his  fondest 
memories  cluster.  His  early  attachments  are  the  most  in- 
dissoluble bonds  to  his  existence.  While  he  may  love  and 
serve,  ever  so  faithfully,  his  new  owners,  he  can  not  forget 
his  old  master.  But  what  slave  could  forget  such  a  master 
as  Colonel  Shelton  had  been  ?  and  what  friend  could  dishonor 
the  friendship  of  such  a  man  ?  And  now,  when  he  met  any 
of  them  occasionally  on  Sabbath  days,  or  all  of  them  at 
quarterly  meetings,  when  they  assembled  from  the  planta- 
tions for  many  miles,  around  a  certain  church,  which  the 
old  Colonel  himself  usually  attended,  then  his  eye  moistened, 
and  his  lip  quivered,  when  his  old  slaves  gathered  round 
him,  with  their  old  love  unextinguished,  and  said,  "  Huddy, 
(for,  how  do  ye,)  my  masser  ?  God  bless  you,  my  masser  !  " 
This  was  always  a  painful  spectacle  even  to  the  by-standers ; 
and  it  was,  as  often  as  it  recurred,  a  mighty  struggle,  on  the 
part  of  Colonel  Shelton,  to  keep  back  the  sobs  which  well- 
nigh  convulsed  the  old  soldier's  heart. 

Colonel  Shelton's  family,  so  greatly  reduced  in  numbers, 
consisted  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  with  ten  slaves.  These 
were  Old  Toney,  with  whom  the  reader  is  already  partially 
acquainted,  his  wife,  Old  Binah,  and  eight  children.  Old 
Rinah's  eldest  child  was  a  powerful,  strapping  fellow,  about 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  99 

six  feet  high,  and  had  been  named  after  his  father.  Tie  had 
been  consequently  called  w  Young  Toney"  from  the  cradle, 
and,  although  upward  of  forty,  was  called  Young  Toney 
still,  that  is,  Toney  Jr.  ;  and  would,  in  all  probability,  be 
called  Young  Toney  to  the  end  of  his  life,  though  he  might 
live  a  hundred  years.  <  r,  al  least,  so  long  as  his  father  lived. 
Tli rough  these  pages,  at  all  events,  the  man  of  forty  shall 
be  Voir: g  Toney  still.  Besides  Young  Toney  there  was  a 
younger  son,  about  twenty-one  or  two,  whose  name  was 
George,  who  will  figure  a  little  hereafter  ;  and  two  bronzed, 
or  mulatto  girls,  resembling  in  complexion  their  mother  ; 
the  one,  about  nineteen,  and  the  other,  seventeen  ;  the  eldest 
called  Lucy,  and  the  youngest,  Fanny.  Old  Ilinah,  herself, 
was  a  bright  mulatto;  and  not  only  Lucy  and  Fanny  were 
of  light  complexion,  but  nearly  all  of  her  younger  children; 
only  "  Young  Toney  "  partook  of  the  nature  and  ebony  hue 
of  his  old  father. 

Lucy  was  a  young  married  woman,  whose  husband  lived 
upon  a  plantation  a  few  miles  off;  and  every  Saturday 
evening,  and  sometimes  twice  a  week,  or  even  oftener,  he 
came  to  see  his  young  wife,  whom  he  loved  devotedly,  and 
was  proud  of  her  accomplishments  ;  for  she  could  die  s 
equal  to  her  young  mistre.  s,  and  usually  wore  several  more 
rings,  all  pure  gold,  which  had  been  either  purchased  by  her 
needle,  or  had  been  given  to  her  by  her  mistress  and  her 
friends. 

But  as  fond  as  Lucy  was  of  finery,  Fanny  far  surpassed 
her  sister  in  her  love  of  display ;  and  well  she  might,  for 
she  was,  indeed,  a  beautiful  girl,  with  a  figure  as  faultless 
as  her  elegant  young  mistress ;  and,  as  all  pretty  girls,  she 
was  vain  of  her  beauty,  and  loved  to  set  off  her  elegant  figure 
to  the  best  possible  advantage.  Be  it  borne  in  mind,  gentle 
reader,  that  there  were  no  hoops  those  days;  for  that  article 
(whether  expensive,  or  otherwise,  deponent  saith  not)  of  a 
woman's  dress  is  of  very  recent  origin.  But  although  there 
were  no  hoops  then  in  use,  yet  there  were  anj  quantity  of 


100  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

bustles,  pads,  etc. ;  and  women  looked  well,  because  we  were 
accustomed  to  their  style,  and  wliat  would  seem  very  unsightly 
now,  seemed  very  sightly,  and  even  comely,  then.  While 
it  must  be  confessed  that  it  was  difficult  for  a  slab-sided 
woman  to  appear  otherwise  than  slab-sided,  or  for  a  fat  and 
corpulent  woman  to  appear  otherwise  than  fat  and  corpulent, 
it  is  equally  true  that  a  woman  of  elegant  figure  could 
exhibit  her  natural  shape  to  the  very  best  advantage,  to  the 
admiration  of  the  beaux,  and  the  envy  of  the  belles,  especially 
those  who  were  so  fortunate  as  to  be  shaped  like  a  Venus 
or  a  Daphne.  We  are  not  going  to  say  a  word  pro  or  con. 
about  hoops,  but  let  them  be  as  they  are,  a  thick  drapery 
which  conceals  from  our  view  many  a  lovely,  glorious  ma- 
donna ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  a  friendly  vail  to  hide  the 
deformities  and  shocking  disproportions  of  many  a  Medusa, 
in  form,  if  not  in  features. 

But  in  the  year  1825,  the  period  at  which  we  have  arrived 
in  the  course  of  our  narrative,  there  were  no  hoops  to  hide 
the  roundness  of  Fanny's  figure,  which  very  much  resembled 
the  graceful  outlines  and  nymph-like  proportions  of  Ella 
Shelton ;  and  when  her  back  was  turned  toward  you,  and 
she  was  dressed  up  in  one  of  her  young  mistress's  splendid, 
and  but  little  used,  silk  or  satin  dresses,  and  had  on  her 
last  winter's  bonnet,  which  Ella  would  herself  trim  with 
new  ribbon,  or  re-adjust  the  old,  with  ingenious  skill,  to  suit 
the  latest  style — when,  we  say,  Fanny's  back  was  turned 
toward  you,  and  she  was  thus  dressed  up  in  her  silks  and 
her  satins,  and  her  jewelry  of  purest  gold,  the  natural  in- 
quiry would  have  been,  "  What  elegant  lady  is  that?"  And 
how  astonished  would  the  Englishman  or  the  Yankee  have 
been  to  hear  the  response:  "Elegant  lady — fiddlesticks! 
That  is  Miss  Shelton' 's  maidV 

Fanny  loved  and  was  as  proud  of  her  young  mistress,  as 
Ella  loved  and  was  proud  of  her  beautiful  servant.  They 
were  just  the  same  age,  and  had  grown  up  together  from 
childhood.     Old  llinah  had  rocked  them  to  sleep  often  side 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  101 

by  side  in  the  same  cradle,  and  they  had  together  tugged 
at  tlie  same  paps,  and  been  nourished  by  the  same  milk; 
while,  from  Mrs.  Shelton's  own  snowy  bosom  Fanny  had, 
more  than  once,  and  fnll  many  a  time,  imbibed  pure,  un- 
adulterated, aristocratic  blood.  But,  notwithstanding  all 
this,  Fanny  knew  her  place,  as  a  dutiful  servant,  and  never 
took  any  undue  liberties,  which  Miss  Shelton  would  have 
repelled  with  a  hauteur  and  a  queenly  dignity,  in  just  Such 
a  way  as  she  would  have  repelled  the  advances  of  a  pert  and 
insolent  snob,  or  would-be  lady  of  doubtful  character  and 
uncertain  social  position. 

The  farm  which  Colonel  Shelton  had  purchased  contained 
over  a  thousand  acres  of  fertile  land,  and,  at  the  present 
day,  would  be  a  little  fortune  itself,  when  land  has  advanced 
at  the  South  in  value  from  one  or  two  dollars  to  ten,  thirty, 
fifty,  and  even  one  hundred  dollars  per  acre  ;  and  slaves  from 
four  hundred  to  one  thousand,  or  even  fifteen  to  eighteen 
hundred  dollars  per  capita.  In  1824,  Colonel  Shelton,  who 
was  then  one  of  our  most  successful  planters,  made  scarcely 
one  bale  of  cotton  to  the  hand.  But  it  is  true  that  his  crop 
was  greatly  injured  by  the  storm  which  prevailed  that  year, 
his  usual  average  being  from  two  to  two  and  a  half  bales 
only.  Now,  in  1860,  farmers  not  possessing  any  more  skill, 
and  upon  the  same  soil,  make  from  five  to  ten  bales,  and 
think  they  arc  doing  a  poor  business  at  that.  Thus,  where 
fifty  bales  of  upland  cotton  were  produced  by  the  labor  of 
from  thirty  to  fifty  hands,  the  same  number  of  laborers 
will  raise  from  two  hundred  and  fifty  to  four  hundred  and 
upward  of  bales.  Verily,  slave  labor  has  injured  the  South 
at  an  amazingly  fearful  rate  !  Thus,  while  the  South  has 
grown  rich  and  independent  by  the  enormous  increase  in 
the  number  and  weight  of  her  cotton-bags,  she  has  built 
up  Northern  manufactures,  and  made  our  brethren  of  the 
North  our  rivals  in  wealth  and  prosperity.  The  entire  Yan- 
kee nation  is  the  most  singular  people  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  —  a  very   peculiar  people  indeed;   fur  while  they  grow 


102  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

rich  themselves,  they  make  every  one  else  rich  with  whom 
they  have  trade  and  commercial  intercourse.  Thus,  while 
the  South  has  built  up  Northern  manufactures,  and  made 
the  entire  North  rich  and  powerful  also,  the  North  and 
South  combined  have  so  helped  England  by  their  immense 
trade,  as  to  save  her  from  bankruptcy  and  utter  ruin,  with 
which  she  was  threatened  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago. 

But  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  philosophize  now  ;  let  facts 
and  figures  speak  for  themselves,  and  let  us  return  to  the 
family  of  Colonel  Shelton,  who  found  themselves  in  a  new 
situation  and  a  new  home  ;  a  situation,  if  not  one  of  abso- 
lute poverty,  at  least  widely  removed  from  the  affluence  and 
splendor  in  which  they  had  lived  all  their  lives  before. 
They  were  now  compelled  to  occupy  a  humble,  but  no  less 
honorable  sphere,  although  their  new  home  was  not  lighted 
by  gilded  candelabras  and  chandeliers  sparkling  with  pris- 
matic colors,  nor  its  humble  walls  frescoed  and  painted  by 
skillful  artists  and  designers. 

The  present  home  of  Colonel  Shelton  was  a  very  differ- 
ent one  from  that  which  he  had  formerly  occupied  in  his 
days  of  independence  and  prosperity.  It  was  a  plain  log- 
cabin  with  four  rooms,  to  which  he  added  a  wing,  to  be 
used  as  a  library,  where  he  kept  his  books,  and  sat  and 
read,  as  had  been  his  custom  during  his  former  life.  But 
as  plain  and  humble  as  was  their  new  home,  did  Ella  Shel- 
ton and  her  mother  repine, "and  fret,  and  scold  because  God, 
in  his  mysterious  providence,  had  thought  proper  to  alter 
their  mode  and  style  of  living  ?  Ear  from  it.  Instead  of 
being  unhappy  and  morose,  they  were  positively  as  cheer- 
ful and  as  happy  as  they  well  could  be  under  the  melan- 
choly circumstances ;  and  but  for  the  absence  of  Langdon, 
whose  fate  was  shrouded  in  tragic  mystery,  and  Colonel 
Shelton's  gloomy  countenance,  which  was  seldom  lighted  up 
by  a  smile,  they  would  have  been  cheerful,  and  even  gay. 
But  as  sad  as  the  circumstances  were,  Ella  could  not  sit 
still  except  when  at  the  harp   or  the  piano  ;  for   she    had 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE  103 

retained  these  two  favorite  instruments ;  and  often  the  hearts 
of  the  servants,  her  ehief  auditors  now,  were  made  glad  by 
her  sweet  songs  and  the  delightful  tones  which  were  struck, 
with  the  skill  of  a  master,  from  the  chords  of  that  sweet- 
est and  most  ancient  and  honored  instrument,  the  harp. 
Upon  the  piano  Bhe  played  beautifully,  it  is  true,  and  used 
to  run  very  gracefully  her  taper  fingers  over  its  ivory  keys. 
But  upon  the  harp  she  spoke  the  language  of  her  soul,  and 
expressed  her  feelings  in  an  audible  voice,  and  with  an 
accent  such  as  angels  may  employ.  It  was  sweet  to  hear 
those  notes — that  voice,  which  rivaled  the  voice  of  the  fairy 
nightingale  ;  and  that  deep-toned  harp,  which  could  awake 
the  echoes  of  the  forest,  and  float  high  above  the  stillness 
of  the  night  air,  or  sink  to  the  coaxing  whisper  of  an  angel 
wooing  its  brother  or  sister  angel  with  its  whisper  of  love. 
Whose  car  would  not  be  unstopped  to  listen,  with  ravished 
attention  and  breathless  delight,  when  Ella  Shelton  played, 
con  amore,  upon  her  sweet-toned,  heaven-strung  harp? 

But  as  fond  of  music  as  was  Ella  Shelton,  the  reader 
must  not  suppose  that  she  was  always  running  her  fingers 
over  the  keys  of  the  piano,  or  seated  with  her  hand  upon 
her  harp.  There  was  much  of  her  life  spent  in  motion  and 
active  exercise.  Never  a  garden  had  graced  that  log-house 
before ;  for  it  had  been  occupied  by  ignorant  and  unlettered 
people,  whose  want  of  refinement  was  evinced  by  the  neg- 
lected appearance  of  all  the  premises.  Now,  however,  a 
flower-garden  was  thought  to  be  an  indispensable  append- 
to  the  dwelling,  as  rude  and  as  uncouth  as  it  might 
seem.  Young  Toney  was  therefore  called  upon  to  fell,  with 
his  strong,  brawny  arm.  a  few  tall  pines,  from  which  beauti- 
ful, straight  white  slabs  were  obtained,  and  these  he  care- 
fully and  securely  wattled  in  until  he  had  inclosed  a  space 
sufficiently  large  for  a  handsome  flower-garden  and  shrub- 
bery. The  flower-garden  Mas  laid  off  by  Ella's  own  little 
hands,  assisted  by  Fanny,  who  rendered  her  mistress  im- 
portant aid  by  her  taste  as  well  as  by  her  superior  strength. 


104  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

When  the  ground  was  all  laid  off  into  squares,  and  octa 
gons,  and  heart-shaped,  and  a  hundred  other  figures,  and 
when  George  had  been  called  upon  with  his  brush  and  fresh- 
white  lime  to  whitewash  the  palings,  and  when  the  house 
had  been  made  clean  and  white  as  the  driven  snow,  both 
inside  and  out,  and  when  Young  Toney  had  also  inclosed 
a  vegetable  garden  for  Mrs.  Shelton's  amusement  and  the 
benefit  of  the  entire  family,  both  white  and  black,  and  when 
the  peas  had  been  planted  and  were  growing  finely,  and  the 
beets  and  the  Irish  potatoes  were  up,  and  the  mustard  and 
the  kale  almost  fit  to  be  eaten,  then  spring  had  come,  al- 
though only  the  latter  part  of  February  ;  for  the  spring  comes 
early  at  the  South,  although  this  was  one  of  the  earliest  and 
most  propitious. 

And  if,  when  the  spring  comes,  even  the  old  man  feels 
his  tread  grown  more  elastic  and  springy,  and  thinks  with 
pleasure  of  his  boyhood's  days,  and  with  pride  of  his  young 
manhood's  prime,  when  his  heart  beat  strong  and  his  eye 
burned  with  the  fire  and  energy  of  hopes  which  had  never 
yet  been  blasted  ;  if  all  nature  becomes  rejuvinated,  and 
the  birds  chirp  gayly,  and  the  trees  bud  forth  joyously  to 
array  themselves  in  their  gorgeous  green,  and  gold,  and 
crimson,  or  parti-colored  attire,  what  must  be  the  feelings 
of  the  young  and  the  innocent,  who  look  upon  Nature  so 
smiling  in  her  aspect  and  captivating  in  her  altered  appear- 
ance, when  Spring,  like  a  delighted  little  goddess,  seems 
to  be  clapping  her  hands  with  merry  glee  at  the  discomfit- 
ure of  Old  Winter,  who  retires,  all  wrinkled  with  frowns, 
before  the  onward  progress  and  jubilante  deo  songs  of  this 
jroddess  of  the  seasons  ? 

Ella  Shelton  could  no  more  resist  the  influence  of  this 
happiest  of  all  happy  springs,  than  could  the  birds  refuse 
to  sing,  or  the  leaves  to  expand,  and  the  flowers  to  burst 
forth  and  bloom  in  all  their  beauty.  Although  a  sigh  often 
heaved  her  chest  when  she  thought  of  her  absent  lover, 
who  was  seldom  indeed  absent  from  her  thoughts,  as  most 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE  105 

loving  maidens  similarly  situated  can  testify  from  their  own 
happy  experience  ;  and  although  whenever  a  thought  of  her 
•poor  lost   brother  would  cross  her  mind,  as  too  often,  for 
her  peace,  she  was  thus  afflicted,  so  that  her  merry  laugh 
would  end  almost  in  a  wail,  and  her  son-,  though  trilled 
never  so  sweetly,  would  die  away  into  the  low  and  mourn- 
ful notes  of  the  turtle-dove  that  has  lost  its  mate,  yet  still 
she  laughed,  and  still  she  sung,  and  moved  as  a  humming- 
bird from  shrub  to  flower ;   and  with  industry  and  energy 
unabated  by  her  secret  sorrows  or  her  altered  fortunes,  she 
planted  and  arranged  her  garden  with  all  the  tasteful  care 
of  a  Turkish  lady  adorning  with  elegance  her  boudoir  for 
the  reception  of  her  absent  lord. 

Who  could  have  supposed  that  in  so  short  a  time  so  much 
could  have  been  accomplished?  Who  could  have  reco-nized 
the  new  home  of  Colonel  Shelton,  which,  under  the  hand 
of  tasteful  and  ingenious  females,  presented  an  appearance 
so  pleasing  and  so  different  from  the  dingy  and  cheerless 
aspect  which  it  formerly  wore?  If  Colonel  Shelton  never 
once  thought  of  the  contrast,  but  only  grieved  for  his  lost 
son,  and  if  Mrs.  Shelton  was  resigned  to  her  lot,  Ella  Shel- 
ton clapped  her  hands  and  exclaimed  with  joy,  that  it  was 
indeed  «  a  love  of  a  cottage  !  "  and  she  had  a  thousand  times 
rather  live  in  it  than  to  dwell  in  the  great  old  house,  which 
was  so  lonely,  unless  crowded  always  with  guests. 

The  jessamines  were  blooming,  and  the  air  was  loaded  with 
their  perfumes,  and  filled  with  the  fragrance  of  the  wood- 
bine, when  one  day  of  the  first  week  of  March,  Ella  determ- 
ined to  go  out  into  the  woods  to  gather  some  of  those  native 
flowers   to   adorn   her   large   flower-vases  and  decorate   the 
mantle,    as   did    the    ancient    Teutons    their   family   altars. 
Fanny  went  with  her,  and  they  had  strolled  some  distance 
from  the  house,  when  suddenly  they  discovered,  among  the 
thick  bushes,  a  little  boy  and  a  girl,  about  fourteen  or  fifteen, 
culling  flowers  also.     They  were  clad  in  plain  homespun' 
but  Ella  thought  she  had  never  looked  upon  a  face  so  beau- 
5* 


106  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

tiful  and  so  angelic  in  its  expression,  as  seemed  to  her  then 
the  face  and  features  of  that  rustic  girl.  She  went  close  up 
to  her  and  saluted  her  kindly ;  but  when  her  little  brother 
took  her  hand  in  his  and  guided  it  forward  until  she  could 
feel  the  hand  of  the  stranger,  Ella  Shelton's  eyes  became 
suffused  with  tears,  for  she  saw  that  she  was  blind.  But 
although  the  poor  blind  girl  could  not  see  those  tears  of 
pity,  she  knew,  by  the  tones  of  her  voice  as  they  trembled 
upon  her  ears,  and  the  tender  pressure  of  her  soft  hand,  that 
she  had  found  a  friend — that  Ella  Shelton  was  a  high-born, 
but  a  kind-hearted  lady. 

"What  is  your  name,  my  poor  girl?"  said  Ella,  with  a 
tremulous  voice,  whose  tones  evinced  the  tenderest  sym- 
pathies. 

"  Fetie,"  was  the  simple  and  natural  reply. 

"  Fetie  !  what  a  sweet  little  name  !  "  exclaimed  Ella,  with 
delight. 

"Do  you  think  so?  and  what  is  your  name,  if  I  may  be 
so  bold  ?  "  asked  Fetie,  in  return. 

"Ella;  Ella  Shelton." 

"Ella!  how  sweet  that  name  sounds  to  my  ear!  Do  let 
me  feel  your  face  with  my  hand ;  I  will  not  hurt  you,  ma'am  ?  " 
said  Fetie,  reaching  forth  a  very  small  and  plump,  but  sun- 
browned  hand. 

"Certainly,  my  dear,"  said  Ella,  with  a  musical  laugh; 
for  she  smiled  within  at  the  thought  of  being  hurt  or  injured 
in  any  way  by  that  little  hand. 

Slowly  and  carefully  did  Fetie  pass  her  hand  over  the  face 
and  features  of  Ella  Shelton.  She  touched  her  forehead 
with  her  fingers,  and  then  she  touched  her  glossy  hair,  which 
she  could  not  see  glistening  in  the  sun.  She  was  not  only 
satisfied  with  her  examination,  but  delighted,  for  she  ex- 
claimed, with  rapture : 

"  0,  how  very  beautiful  you  are  !  you  are  even  more 
beautiful  than  my  little  pet  lamb,  who  died  this  winter." 

"I  am  not  half  so  beautiful  as  you  are,  my  dear;   nor 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  107 

half  so  sweet  and  good  as  you  must  be,  with  that  sweet  little 
name,  Fetie.  Surely  one  who  answers  to  that  name  must 
be  good,  and  lovely,  and  kind,"  Ella  Shelton  replied,  in 
sincere,  heartfelt  admiration.  "  How  far  do  you  live  from 
here?  "  she  then  asked,  turning  her  eyes  upon  the  little  boy, 
who  replied : 

"  About  a  mile,  miss ;  and  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
Colonel  Shelton's." 

"Indeed!  so  near?"  said  Ella,  delighted  that  she  had 
come  across  one  to  whom  she  could  be  useful,  and  who  might 
prove  an  interesting  companion  in  her  solitude.  "  Well, 
good-by,  Fetie,"  and  she  kissed  the  ruddy  lips  of  the 
peasant  girl,  and  then  said,  in  earnest,  affectionate  tones : 
"  Be  sure,  now,  that  you  come  to  see  me ;  I  shall  look  for 
you  very  soon,  and  shall  think  that  you  can't  love  me  if  you 
do  not  come." 

"0,  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  come,"  said  Fetie,  and  she 
sought  Ella's  hand  again,  which  she  attempted  to  kiss,  but 
Ella  said : 

"Nay,  nay!"  with  a  merry  laugh,  "you  shall  not  kiss 
my  hand,  dear,  you  shall  kiss  my  lips.  There,  now ;  good- 
by,  and  come  very  soon." 

Such  was  the  first  accidental  interview  between  the  high- 
born and  accomplished  Ella  Shelton  and  the  humble  blind 
girl.  The  acquaintance  thus  began  was  destined  to  ripen 
into  an  intimacy  and  an  attachment  which  would  prove  as 
deathless  as  their  own  immortal  spirits. 

Fetie  did  not  wait  for  another  invitation,  for  the  very  next 
day  she  came,  accompanied  by  her  little  brother,  who  went 
everywhere  with  her,  holding  his  poor  blind  sister  by  the 
hand. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,"  said  Ella,  joyously,  who 
was  then  in  her  flower-garden,  with  a  garden-hoe  in  her 
hand,  and  which  she  had  been  employing  vigorously,  until 
her  checks  grew  red  and  fairly  tinged  with  the  hot  blood 
which  rushed  to  her  face  and  made  her  look  so  lovely,  like 


108  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

a  fairy  princess  training  her  flowers.  Poor  Fetie  could  not 
see  her  new  friend's  face,  but  her  heart  leaped  with  joy  at 
the  sound  of  her  musical  voice.  Ella  took  her  by  the  hand 
and  led  her  into  the  parlor,  and,  after  sitting  a  few  moments, 
asked  her  if  she  would  like  to  hear  the  piano. 

"  0,  yes  !  so  much  !  "  replied  Fetie,  "  I  have  never  heard 
anything  in  all  my  life  but  the  fiddle  very  harshly  played." 

Ella  sat  down  to  the  piano  and  played  several  very  pretty 
tunes  upon  that  instrument,  to  which  Fetie  listened  with 
delight.  But  when  Ella  went  from  the  piano  to  the  harp, 
and  touched  lightly  at  first,  and  then,  with  a  gradual  swell, 
causing  the  strings  of  that  harp,  which  seemed  to  feel  and 
understand  her  touch,  to  fill  the  room  and  the  very  air  with 
sweet  sounds,  dying  away  in  the  distance,  and  then  coming- 
back  again  like  music  approaching  from  afar,  Fetie  rose 
up  from  her  seat  with  a  countenance  and  a  look  as  if  com- 
pletely entranced,  and  making  a  few  steps  forward,  held  out 
her  hands  as  to  grasp  some  invisible  and  heavenly  spirit 
flying  toward  her  through  the  air.  It  was  the  most  eloquent 
tribute  which  had  ever  been  paid  to  the  skill,  seldom 
equaled,  but  never  surpassed,  of  Ella  Shelton.  She  felt  and 
appreciated  the  compliment,  because  it  was  one  which  had 
been  paid  by  nature  herself.  She  was  grateful  that  she  had 
been  able  to  make  a  poor  blind  girl  happy ;  and  in  her  heart 
she  blessed  her  father  and  mother,  who  had  so  often  urged 
and  encouraged  her  to  persevere,  when,  in  her  earlier  at- 
tempts, she  was  almost  ready  to  abandon  in  despair  her 
efforts  to  become  proficient  and  skillful  in  the  use  of  the 
harp. 

"  You  love,  then,  the  sound  of  this,  to  me,  sweetest  of  all 
instruments,"  said  Ella,  rather  as  an  affirmation  of  a  truth 
than  as  an  inquiry. 

"0,  yes!"  said  Fetie,  almost  in  a  whisper,  as  if  afraid 
lest  her  own  voice  should  interrupt  the  sweet  sounds  which 
were  still  lingering  in  her  memory.  Then  she  walked  across 
the  room,  and  went  to  where  Ella  was  standing  by  the  side 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  109 

of  her  beautifully  carved  and  gilded  harp.  Ella  held  forth 
her. hand  and  led  her  gently  toward  the  instrument,  as  she 
would  a  little  child  who  is  just  beginning  to  walk.  She 
guided  Fetie's  hand  to  the  strings  of  the  harp,  and  bade  her 
touch  them  with  her  fingers.  The  blind  girl  started  at  the 
sound  of  the  strings  as  her  hand  touched  them,  and  she 
trembled  as  though  she  had  heard  a  mysterious  voice  spoken 
suddenly  in  her  ear.  But  it  was  not  with  fear.  It  was  rather 
a  thrill  of  delight;  the  tingling  sensation  which  one  ex- 
periences when  he  first  becomes  conscious  of  and  compre- 
hends the  poetry  of  music.  It  was  innate  genius,  which  had 
lain  dormant,  till  then  undeveloped,  and  was  just  beginning 
to  burst  from  its  chrysalis  shell. 

Fetic  touched  the  harp-strings  again  and  again,  and  every 
time  with  increased  pleasure,  and,  as  if  by  intuition,  sweet 
sounds  were  produced  all  in  harmonious  accord,  until  they 
assumed  a  regular  form,  and  became,  in  reality,  a  sweet  ac- 
companiment to  a  song. 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  Ella  Shelton,  clapping  her  hands  with 
unfeigned  delight.  "  You  have  a  wonderful  talent  for  music, 
for,  without  knowing  it,  you  have  improvised  a  beautiful  little 
accompaniment.  What  a  pity  we  could  n't  find  words 
apropos  to  the  air,  for  I  am  sure  you  must  have  a  sweet 
voice." 

The  tears  were  in  Fetie's  eyes,  and  she  did  not  seem  to 
hear  or  understand  what  Ella  had  been  saying.  Her  face 
was  turned  upward,  and  the  veins  upon  her  temples  became 
bluer,  and  swelled  larger  and  larger,  as  the  poetic  fires  of 
her  nature  became  kindled  within  her  soul.  She  seemed 
utterly  lost  to  surrounding  objects,  and  in  so  rapt  a  state 
as  to  forget  that  she  had  a  listener  ;  and,  in  a  sweet,  plaintive 
voice,  she  sang  these  impromptu  words  : 


I  love  the  flowers — the  lovely  flowers; 

H«>w  dear  tliey  are  to  me  ! 
But  though  tlicir  odon  are  so  sweet, 

The  flowers  I  can  not  Bee! 


110  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

For  though  they  have  a  thousand  hues — 

So  bright,  so  rich,  aud  free, 
Their  varied  hues  I  can  not  tell — 

I  'm  blind  from  infancy  ! 

And  there  's  the  sun  !  the  glorious  sun  ! 

The  silv'ry  stars  and  moon  ! 
1 5m  told  they  are  resplendent  orbs — 

To  man,  God's  mightiest  boon  ; 
But  though  so  bright  and  beautiful 

To  you  they  seem  to  be, 
To  me  their  brightness  is  but  gloom  ; 

0  !  dark  they  are  to  me  ! 

And  there  's  the  pine  !  the  tall  old  pine! 

How  grand  it  must  appear ! 
With  lofty  head,  reared  high  above, 

To  drink  in  heaven's  sweet  air  ! 
I  hear  the  tree-top's  plaintive  moans  ; 

They  sound  so  sad  to  me ! 
Like  an  imprison'd  giant's  groans, 

Who  's  struggling  to  be  free. 

I  've  heard  old  ocean's  angry  roar, 

As  on  the  beach  I  've  stood, 
But  though  its  waves  are  white  with  foam, 

They  're  dark  to  me  as  blood  ! 
And  there's  the  bright  and  silv'ry  stream 

That  glides  on  to  the  sea ; 
Though  like  a  glass  to  you  it  seem, 

0  !  dark  it  is  to  me  ! 

But  there  's  a  clime — a  glorious  clime  ! 

Its  ether  's  clear  and  bright ! 
Far  brighter  suns  and  stars  are  there, 

And  there  I'll  have  my  sight! 
0  !  happy  time  !  0  !  joyous  day  ! 

So  happy  shall  I  be ! 
The  dumb  shall  speak  where  Jesus  reigns ! 

The  blind — (he  blind  shall  see! 

"When  Fetie  had  ended  her  song,  which  was  the  impromptu 
outpouring  of  her  pure  spirit,  she  leaned  her  head  against 
the  harp  and  wept  most  passionately.  Ella,  whose  heart 
was  full,  and  from  whose  eyes  ran  a  continuous  stream  of 
tears,  went  up  to  where  poor  Fetie  stood  weeping,  and  plac- 
ing her  arm  around  her  neck,  she  fondly  drew  her  head 
upon  her  bosom  and  pillowed  it  there,  as  a  kind  mother 
would  her  almost  orphan  child,  who  is  weeping  for  its  dead 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  Ill 

father.  She  spoke  not  a  word,  but  her  action,  so  simply 
performed,  was  eloquence  itself.  It  was  understood  by  poor 
Fetic,  who,  from  that  moment,  knew  that  in  her  new  friend 
she  had  not  only  found  a  benefactress,  but  a  sister  also.  She 
leaned  her  head  heavily  against  Ella's  bosom,  and  listened 
long  and  breathlessly  to  the  steady  throbbings  of  her  heart, 
as  though  she  wished  to  learn  the  language  of  its  beatings. 
When  she  looked  up  in  Ella's  face,  she  smiled  a  sweet, 
happy  smile,  and  seemed  to  feel  that  she  had  learned  its 
dialect — at  least,  had  mastered  its  alphabet;  and  she  felt 
assured  that  every  character  written  upon  the  pure  tablets 
of  that  heart  was  love,  all  love ;  not  an  unkind  thought  or 
desire  toward  man,  or  woman,  or  child.  No  other  spirit 
than  the  purest  and  most  unalloyed  feeling  of  philanthropy 
beat  in  that  virgin  heart  of  innocence  and  love. 

Ella  looked  down  into  Fetie's  eyes  and  smiled,  and  Fetic 
smiled  also.  There  must  have  been  something  like  mes- 
merism— a  magnetic  power  in  the  voiceless  smile  of  Ella 
Shelton ;  for  Fetie  could  not  see  nor  hear  a  smile ;  for  Ella 
Shclton  looked  intently  into  the  blind  girl's  eyes,  and  as  far 
down  as  she  looked,  she  could  see  no  light  there.  All  was 
darkness  and  night  in  those  windows  of  the  soul,  which 
seemed  to  have  been  closed  up  in  early  infancy  by  the  hand 
of  a  beneficent  God,  that  her  pure  spirit  might  remain  pure 
and  unshocked  by  looking  upon  the  deformities  of  earth. 
But  if  she  saw  neither  the  beauties  of  nature,  nor  the  scars 
and  cicatrices  with  which  all  nature  has  been  disfigured  by 
sin,  there  were  other  senses  through  which  she  both  saw 
and  felt,  perhaps  in  modified,  perhaps  in  a  grander  degree, 
the  grandeur  of  the  universe,  and  the  infinite  glory  of  God. 
She  was  stone-blind,  it  is  true,  but  she  could  both  sec  and 
feel  what  the  atheist,  with  all  his  senses  unimpaired,  and 
with  all  his  boastful  ignorance,  could  not  discover — that 
there  is  a  God  everywhere,  and  that  his  name  is  Love. 


112  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  J    OR, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

(*^rf  HUS  passed  the  months  of  March  and  April,  and  when 
ISE)   May  came  it  was  still  the  same  with  Fetie  and  Ella, 
<&&|?   for  they  were  nearly  every  day  together,  seated  in  the 
Vv     parlor,  or  walking  with  their  arms  around  each  other's 
waist,  as  a  couple  of  twin  sisters.     Fetie,  poor  blind 
Fetie,  had  become  quite  a  proficient  upon  the  harp,  which 
she  played  very  sweetly,  although,  of  course,  altogether  by 
air ;  and  she  could  accompany  Ella  while  she  played  several 
of  those  sweet  airs,  such  as  "Blue-Eyed  Mary"  and  "Annie 
Laurie,"  which  were  then  so  popular  throughout  the  coun- 
try, and  deservedly  so,  for  they  are   sweet  airs  still ;    but 
sweetest  of  all  the  airs  they  sung  was  that  sweetest  of  sweet 
songs — 

"  Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee." 

But  often  was  it  the  case  that  Fetie  became  in  a  moment 
filled  with  rhapsody  while  seated  at  the  harp,  and  forget- 
ting that  there  was  any  one  within  hearing  of  her  voice,  she 
would  pour  out  her  soul's  deep  inspirations  in  poetry  and 
song ;  improvising  as  sweetly  as  Corinne  used  to  do  before 
her  friends  and  admirers  at  Borne. 

It  was  at  such  a  time  that  she  sung  and  played  a  very 
plaintive  little  air,  so  soft  and  low  that  it  drew  tears  from 
Ella's  eyes,  and  made  even  Mrs.  Shelton  and  the  old  Col- 
onel himself  come  softly  to  the  door  to  listen  and  to  shed 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  113 

tears  in  silent  sympathy.      The  tune  was  plaintive,  as  all 
her  music  was,  and  well  adapted  to  the  following  words : 

My  sister  dear  is  dead ! 

And  her  sweet  face  I  Ml  ne'er  behold  ! 
Nor  shall  I  touch  again  that  head 

Where  clustered  curls  of  brightest  gold  ; 
Nor  e'er  again  that  noble  brow 
That 's  cold  and  hard  as  marble  now  ! 

My  sister  dear  is  dead ! 

And  ere  she  died,  a  dream  she  dreamed  — 
That  angels  hovered  round  her  bed, 

And  beautiful  and  fair  they  seemed  ; 
Whoso  white  wings  fanned  and  cooled  her  brow  ; 
Whose  voices  whispered  music  low. 

My  sister  dear  is  dead  ! 

But  though  on  ivory  and  in  gold 
I  see  her  still,  her  spirit 's  fled  ! 

Her  smile  \s  not  there  !  her  lips  are  cold  I 
And  though  her  eyes  look  kind  on  me, 
I  hear  no  voice  !  no  smile  for  me  ! 

My  sister  dear  is  dead  ! 

How  fair  and  beautiful  was  she! 
And  though  from  earth  her  spirit 's  fled, 

Her  memory  still  is  dear  to  me. 
In  heaven,  0  !  let  me  meet  thee  there 
In  heaven  I  '11  see  thee,  sister  dear ! 

When  she  had  finished  her  song  she  pulled  out  from  her 
bosom  a  small  piece  of  ivory  about  two  inches  square,  around 
whose  edges  was  a  narrow  rim  of  gold.  She  passed  the  ends 
of  her  fingers  over  its  surface,  and  then  pressed  it  affection- 
ately to  her  lips.  Ella  went  up  and  looked  upon  it  with 
admiration.  It  was  a  portrait,  most  admirably  painted,  of 
a  beautiful  .child  about  five  or  six  years  old.  There  was  a 
bright,  black  eye  beneath  a  snow-white  forehead  of  peculiar 
shape  and  beauty,  and  upon  her  temples,  and  down  her 
shoulders,  hung  sweet  little  curls  of  purest  golden  hue,  while 
her  checks  were  roseate  with  health  and  young  life.  Her 
e}^  seemed  to  flash  with  intelligence,  and  her  lips  to  move 
with  a  smile,  as  the  light  played  upon  the  polished  surface 
of  the  ivory  when  its  position  was  changed  by  any  motion 


114  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

of  the  hand  which  held  it.  It  was,  indeed,  a  transcendently 
lovely  image,  and  never  had  a  goddess  or  an  infant  Madonna 
been  painted  with  a  more  lovely  countenance,  or  in  more 
fascinating  colors.  It  had  been  the  work  of  a  poor,  dissi- 
pated, but  once  celebrated  artist,  who  had  been  knocked 
about  from  pillar  to  post,  and  was  sometimes  even  compelled 
to  beg  his  daily  bread.  Driven  from  the  city  by  the  pangs 
of  hunger  and  the  terrors  of  a  sheriff  armed  with  a  writ 
against  him,  he  had  taken  refuge  in  the  country,  and  had 
stopped  one  night  at  the  house  where  lived  the  parents  of 
Fetie  and  her  little  sister.  Although  very  poor,  and  utterly 
destitute  of  money,  he  had  an  independent  spirit,  and,  when 
he  was  able,  returned  a  favor  with  all  the  generosity  and 
liberality  of  a  prince. 

Although  little  Annie's  portrait  would  much  more  than 
pay  for  a  week's,  or  even  a  month's  lodging,  he  determined, 
with  the  consent  of  her  mother,  to  take  her  likeness.  In 
doing  this,  he  succeeded  most  admirably,  and  to  the  wonder 
and  delight  of  the  family,  not  excepting  even  poor,  blind 
Fetie,  who  passed  her  fingers — which  were  her  only  substi- 
tute for  sight — over  the  portrait  of  her  little  sister,  and  then 
again  over  her  sister  Annie's  face,  just  as  we  would  do  when 
looking  first  upon  the  likeness  and  then  upon  the  original 
to  compare  them,  until  she  became  thoroughly  satisfied  that 
it  was,  indeed,  a  very  representative  of  her  dearly  best- 
beloved  little  sister,  Annie.  But,  0,  how  she  loved  that 
picture,  and  held  it  ever  pressed  close  to  her  heart  after 
little  Annie  died  ;  for  she  sickened  a  little  while  afterward, 
and  died  that  very  summer  ;  and  her  ignorant  and  conceited 
father  said  a  great  many  harsh  things  about  the  man  who  had 
painted  the  picture,  and  declared  that  if  he  could  only  get 
hold  of  the  villain,  he  would  break  every  bone  in  his  body, 
for  he  believed,  in  his  heart,  that  the  rascal  had  "  cast  the  evil 
eye  "  upon  his  child.  But  little  Annie's  mother  and  Fetie 
also  knew  that  it  was  G-od  who  had  taken  her  home,  for  he 
wanted  another  angel  in  heaven,  and  had  prepared  a  little 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  115. 

stool  upon  which  she  could  sit  and  sine:,  and  listen  to  the 
seraphim  and  cherubim  playing  upon  their  golden  harps  and 
silver  lutes,  all  set  with  priceless,  glittering  jewels. 

"  Your  little  sister  must  have  been  a  lovely  creature,  in- 
deed," said  Ella,  as  she  returned  the  ivory  portrait ;  and 
wishing  to  distract  Fetie's  thoughts  from  the  melancholy 
channel  into  which  they  had  turned,  she  said,  gayly  :  "But 
wait  here,  Fetic,  till  I  return  ;  I  have  something  to  show  you 
which  will  both  please  and  surprise  you  very  much." 

She  ran  into  Lucy's  house  and  brought  her  little  baby, 
which  was  then  just  a  month  old,  carefully  wrapped  up  in  a 
shawl.  It  was  with  much  persuasion  that  Ella  could  induce 
Lucy  to  let  her  bring  the  little  baby  into  the  open  air  ;  for, 
as  all  young  mothers,  she  was  very  precious  of  her  little 
charge,  and  disliked  to  see  it  out  of  her  sight  for  a  single 
moment.  However,  to  oblige  "dear,  good  Miss  Ella,  whom 
she  could  scarcely  refuse  anything  in  this  world  "  —  the  little 
thing,  who,  by  Ella's  own  request,  and  the  secret  desire  of 
both  the  mother  and  father,  was  named  Ella,  "little  Ella" 
after  "Miss  Ella"  —  was  now  borne  away  very  carefully  in- 
deed, and  very  tenderly,  in  the  arms  of  its  mistress.  She 
held  up  the  little  infant  before  Fetie,  and  bade  her  guess 
whose  child  it  was. 

"Can  you  tell  what  kind  of  features  it  has,  and  what  is 
the  color  of  its  skin?" 

Fetie  passed  her  hand  slowly  and  very  gently  over  the 
child's  face,  touching  every  part  of  it  with  the  tips  of  her 
fingers,  until  she  seemed  satisfied  with  her  examination,  and 
then  she  exclaimed,  with  rapture  : 

"0,  how  beautiful!  I  have  never  seen  a  more  beautiful, 
never  half  so  beautiful  a  mulatto  as  this ! " 

Fetie  always  spoke  of  her  seeing  an  object  as  though  she 
possessed  in  reality  the  sense  of  sight  in  all  its  perfection. 
But  she  sow,  nevertheless,  with  her  fingers,  which  were  the 
only  eyes  I  he  blind  girl  had. 

"  You  say  but  the  truth,  Fetie  ;  it  is,  indeed,  a  little  angel,': 


116  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

and  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  Ella  Shelton  pressed  hei 
coral  lips  to  the  soft  cheek  of  little  Ella,  who  was  her  slave. 

Nor  was  she  at  all  ashamed  of  her  act,  for  she  held  it  up 
to  Fetie,  who  kissed  it  also ;  and  then  they  chirped  to  the 
little  babe,  and  snapped  their  fingers  until  it  smiled  and 
cooed  in  return  for  the  playful  notice  which  had  been  taken 
of  it. 

One  who  has  not  been  reared  at  the  South  can  hardly 
understand  a  scene  like  this  ;  and  a  very  refined  and  elegant 
lady  in  the  aristocratic  city  of  Boston  will,  perhaps,  toss  her 
head,  and  say  that  "  Miss  Ella  Shelton  was  no  better  than 
she  should  be  !"  But  not  so  fast,  my  good  lady,  you,  who 
are,  perhaps,  a  zealous  member  of  an  Abolition  society,  a 
worshiper  at  the  shrine  of  the  antislavery  god.  Miss  Ella 
Shelton  was  just  such  a  beautiful  and  accomplished  young 
lady  as  any ;  the  proudest  matron  in  the  aristocratic  city  of 
Boston  would  have  felt  proud  to  acknowledge  as  a  daughter, 
or  a  bride  for  her  worthiest  and  noblest  son.  For,  however 
convenient  it  may  be  sometimes  to  seek  an  alliance  whose 
only  object  is  money,  there  is  a  talismanic  influence  and  an 
"open  sesame"  power  in  an  ancient  and  honorable  name, 
which  destroys  our  prejudices  and  unlocks  the  heart  at  the 
welcome  approach  of  one  who  has  moved  in  the  same  sphere 
and  felt  the  same  influences  as  ourselves.  "While  the  snob 
may  be  repulsed,  however  heavy  his  purse,  or  arrogant  his 
bearing,  the  man  or  woman  of  true  refinement  can  not  fail 
to  meet  with  a  sincere  and  hearty  reception  from  the  truly 
refined  and  intelligent. 

Ella  Shelton  was  just  such  a  young  lady  as  would  have 
felt  at  home,  and  been  welcomed  with  cordiality  and  affec- 
tion among  the  most  ancient  and  honorable  of  the  nobility 
of  England  or  France.  She  was  a  "  bright,  particular  star," 
whose  effulgence  would  be  conspicuous  in  sunshine  and 
splendor,  as  well  as  in  darkness  and  gloom.  She  was  a  lovely 
flower,  whose  fragrance  would  have  filled  with  sweetness  the 
gay  halls  and  gilded  saloons  of  fashion,  as  well  as  the  humble 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE     LAND-PIRATE.  117 

home,  or  even  the  "  desert  air."  Let  not  then  the  lordly,  or 
the  purse-proud  turn  away  with  contempt,  and  refuse  to  look 
upon  her  portrait,  because  it  is  drawn  too  faithfully,  and  in 
colors  too  fast  and  true ;  for  her  likeness  may  be  found  in 
more  places  than  one  in  our  Southern  States,  and,  perhaps, 
also,  in  the  homes  of  the  truly  benevolent,  and  intelligent, 
and  refined  of  the  North  and  of  England. 

The  siunmer  of  1825  was  spent  by  Ella  Shelton  chiefly  in 
the  company  and  companionship  of  the  blind  girl,  Fetie, 
whose  attachment  grew  stronger  and  stronger  for  her  new 
friend,  who  took  peculiar  pride  and  pleasure  in  dressing  her 
up  in  clothes  of  the  finest  texture,  such  as  she  wore  herself, 
and  which  she  cut  and  made  chiefly  with  her  own  hands, 
often  rejecting  the  proffered  aid  of  Fanny.  Often  it  was  the 
case  that  Fetie  remained  at  the  house  of  Colonel  Shelton, 
not  only  all  night,  but  even  for  whole  weeks  at  a  time,  in  the 
constant  companionship  and  society  of  the  kind-hearted  Ella, 
who  urged  her  to  remain.  They  passed  their  time  not  only 
at  the  harp  and  the  piano,  but  in  many  other  ways  interest- 
ing to  young  ladies  only.  But,  perhaps  their  greatest 
pleasure  consisted  in  playing  with  Lucy's  little  baby,  who 
had  grown  and  fattened  until  its  cheeks  had  become  dimpled, 
and  its  eyes  sparkled,  and  its  infant  laugh  grew  louder  and 
more  laughter-provoking.  Then,  how  merry  grew  Ella 
Shelton,  and  how  she  clapped  her  hands  with  glee  when  she 
witnessed  the  happiness  of  Fetie,  and  saw  her  feeling  for  the 
smile  which  played  around  the  dimpled  mouth  and  cheeks 
of  little  Ella ;  for  the  eyes  of  the  blind  girl  seemed  to  be  in 
her  fingers. 

But  the  summer  passed  on,  and  the  autumn  came,  and  then 
little  Ella  began  to  sicken,  and  to  fade  slowly  away ;  and  Ella 
began  to  be  very  sorrowful,  and  to  upbraid  herself,  and  to 
imagine  that  in  some  way  or  other  she  herself  may  have 
been  the  unintentional  and  innocent  cause  of  the  child's 
sickness.  If  the  father  grew  anxious,  and  the  mother  seemed 
grieved,  Ella  Shelton   seemed   yet  more   distressed   at  the 


118  OLD  TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

gloomy  prospect  of  losing  her  little  pet,  and  seeing  it  laid 
away  in  the  cold  grave.  A  skillful  physician  was  called  in, 
but  although  he  visited  the  little  sufferer  day  after  day,  it 
was  not  with  hope,  for  it  was  "  only  to  oblige  that  dear 
young  lady,  the  daughter  of  old  Colonel  Shelton." 

In  vain  were  his  remedies,  for  the  little  patient  was  born 
with  incipient  tubercles  in  its  lungs,  and  consumption  had 
laid  its  withering  hand  upon  its  victim  from  the  very  cradle, 
or,  perhaps,  when,  in  embryo,  it  lay  in  its  mother's  womb. 
O  !  how  Ella  Shelton  clasped  her  hands  in  agony,  and  how 
the  tears  streamed  down  her  cheeks,  when  she  looked  upon 
the  wan  face  of  the  little  sufferer  lying  in  its  cradle,  and 
saw  that  its  wanness  was  every  day  increasing.  And  when 
the  babe  opened  its  eyes — those  bright  eyes  of  crystalline 
brightness — and  held  out  its  little  hands  toward  its  mistress, 
how  tenderly  she  lifted  it  in  her  arms,  as  if  afraid  lest  she 
might  extinguish  the  little  light  which  seemed  to  be  flick- 
ering in  its  socket. 

When  little  Ella  seemed  vigorous  and  hearty,  and  before 
the  deceitful  worm,  which  had  lain  still  for  a  few  months 
only,  had  begun  to  eat  out  the  heart's  core  and  consume  the 
young  life  of  its  helpless  victim,  then  Ella  Shelton  used  to 
jerk  out  the  babe  from  its  cradle,  and  romp  so  with  it  that 
Lucy,  its  mother,  and  Old  Rinah,  its  grandmother,  would 
not  only  be  frightened,  but  would  scold  away  at  their  young 
mistress,  and  sometimes,  in  their  apprehension,  take  it  from 
her  arms,  lest  the  child  might  be  injured  by  too  much 
romping. 

But  now  Ella  Shelton  would  raise  her  little  namesake  as 
tenderly  as  one  would  handle  a  piece  of  frost-work  in  glass, 
or  a  tiny  vase  of  the  most  delicate  wax-flowers.  October 
came,  and  as  teething — which  is  often  itself  alone  fatal  to 
the  young  life  of  the  infant — began  to  acid  its  weakening 
influence  to  the  consuming  power  of  consumption,  little 
Ella,  instead  of  growing  stronger,  grew  weaker  and  weaker 
every  day.     And,  0  !  how  Ella  Shelton  wished  now  that  she 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AXD   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  119 

had  embraced  the  opportunity  and  improved  the  time  she 
once  had  of  becoming  not  only  a  landscape,  but  a  portrait 
painter  also.  Had  she  done  this,  she  might  have  been  able 
to  transfer  upon  canvas  the  features  of  the  little  sufferer, 
who  became  dearer  and  dearer  to  her  as  it  every  day  ap- 
proached nearer  and  nearer  the  brink  of  the  grave,  just  as 
the  little  child  hugs  closer  to  its  breast  the  little  pet  lamb 
that  is  now  dead,  and  will  open  its  eyes  never  more. 

There  were  no  daguerreotypes  those  days,  nor  was  am- 
brotyping  yet  discovered.  Painting  in  water  or  oil  colors, 
upon  canvas  or  ivory,  with  the  pencil  or  the  brush,  were  the 
only  means  employed — or,  at  least,  in  general  use — for  pre- 
serving the  images  of  those  whose  features  we  wished  to 
retain  after  the  dear  original  was  dead  and  o:one  to  its  lone 
home. 

The  idea  of  having  a  likeness  taken  of  "  little  Ella  "  so 
filled  the  mind  and  heart  of  Ella  Shelton,  that  she  could 
think  of  nothing  else.  The  one  thought  pervaded  her  en- 
tire being,  and  kept  her  often  awake  for  many  long  hours. 
She  took  up  her  pencil  and  brush,  and,  spreading  a  piece 
of  canvas  upon  a  little  easel,  sat  down  to  her  self-imposed 
task  of  transferring,  upon  oil-cloth,  as  faithful  a  transcript 
of  little  Ella's  features  as  her  unpracticed  hand  could  exe- 
cute. But,  although  it  was  a  labor  of  love,  and  although 
the  outlines  and  even  expression  of  the  little  dusky  face 
would  have  satisfied  one  less  fastidious  or  less  a  connois- 
seur, she  tore  up  the  canvas  in  disgust,  and  flung  the  strips 
into  the  fire ;  nor  could  she  be  convinced  that  any  but  an 
acknowledged  master,  or  professed  artist,  could  do  justice 
to  that  bright,  transparent  eye  of  the  little  spirit  who  had 
already  begun  to  rustle  and  flutter  its  wings,  as  if  trying 
the  strength  of  its  pinions  before  it  should  take  its  heaven- 
ward flight — its  long  journey  to  the  spirit-land. 

Persisting  in  the  declaration,  although  her  mother  thought 
otherwise,  that  all  her  efforts  to  paint  the  portrait  of  little 
Ella  amounted  to  nothing  more   than   "  a  mere  daub"  she 


120  OLD  .TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

began  to  think  of  the  possibility  of  inducing  an  artist  to 
undertake  the  journey  from  Charleston  or  Savannah,  for 
the  purpose  of  accomplishing  a  work  which  she  herself  had 
abandoned  in  despair.  She  spoke  to  her  mother  upon  the 
subject;  timidly  at  first,  and  then  with  urgent  entreaty  that 
her  wish  should  be  gratified.  Mrs.  Shelton  smoothed  back 
her  daughter's  hair  upon  her  lofty,  snow-white  forehead, 
and  sighed  when  she  said : 

"Willingly,  my  child,  would  I  gratify  your  very  natural 
desire  to  preserve  the  image  of  our  little  Ella,  who  seems 
to  have  been  loaned  us  for  a  little  while  only,  to  teach  us 
another  lesson  of  humility  and  resignation  to  His  mysterious 
will.  But,  my  dear  child,  we  are  unable  to  do  this  thing. 
Had  your  father  still  the  means  that  lie  once  had  to 
gratify  his  beloved  daughter,  he  would  send  anywhere — 
to  Europe  if  necessary — sooner  than  your  slightest  wish 
should  remain  ungratified.  But  your  father  is  no  longer 
wealthy  " 

"  My  dear  mother,  you  misunderstand  me  altogether.  I 
am  well  aware  that  my  father  is  poor  now,  and  I  would  not, 
for  the  world,  give  my  poor,  broken-hearted  father  pain  by 
causing  him  in  any  way  to  remember  his  former  wealth, 
which  he  so  lately  had  and  used  so  worthily,  nor  recall  to 
mind  his  present  poverty.  No,  no ;  it  is  not  to  you  or  my 
father  that  I  would  apply  in  this  matter.  I  only  desire  that 
you  would  permit  Old  Daddy  Toney,  or  his  son  George,  to 
go  down  to  Charleston  or  Savannah,  with  the  carriage  or  the 
gig,  and  bring,  as  fast  as  he  can,  an  artist  who  could  paint 
little  Ella  well,  and  who  would  be  satisfied  with  the  sum 
of  fifty  dollars  for  the  time  and  labor  necessary  to  be  em- 
ployed in  taking  the  likeness  of  Lucy's  little  infant.  Do 
you  think,  mother,  it  would  be  done  for  fifty  dollars — just 
a  small  portrait?" 

"  Yes,  my  child,  I  have  no  doubt  that  some  poor,  or  rather, 
I  should  have  said,  some  kind  artist  would  undertake  the 
journey,  if  he  could  be  assured  of  his  pay,"  replied  Mrs. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  121 

Shelton,  with  a  smile  of  wonder,  as  she  still  smoothed  back 
her  daughter's  glossy  ringlets. 

"Well,  then,  mother,"  said  Ella  Shelton,  joyously,  "it  is 
a  fait  accomplis !  for  I  have  still  fifty  dollars  left  of  my  last 
year's  allowance,  and  can  find  no  better  use  for  it  than  this. 
Do,  mother,  speak  to  father  about  it,  and  get  him  to  send 
to  Charleston,  and,  0  !  I  shall  be  so  glad  and  so  thankful!" 

Mrs.  Shelton  could  not  resist  the  entreaties  of  her  daugh- 
ter any  more  than  Colonel  Shelton,  had  she  gone  to  him  in 
the  first  instance  ;  but,  although  Ella  would  have  preferred 
sending  to  Charleston  for  an  artist,  that  Old  Toney  might 
be  enabled  to  tell  her,  on  his  return,  that  he  had  seen  Her- 
bert, with  his  own  eyes,  and,  perhaps,  be  the  bearer  of  a 
letter  from  her  lover,  yet  it  was  determined,  in  family  con- 
clave, to  send  down  to  Savannah,  and  request  Mr.  Hartwell 
to  procure  the  services  of  an  artist  who  would  be  willing  to 
encounter  the  fatigues  of  a  journey  of  nearly  a  hundred 
miles  for  the  sum  of  fifty  dollars.  Colonel  Shelton  himself 
wrote  the  letter  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Hartwell,  in  his  usual 
plain,  straightforward  way;  but  Ella  wrote  another,  which 
she  slipped  into  her  father's  package.  It  was  a  very  small 
note,  written  in  a  very  delicate  Italian  hand,  and  sealed  with 
sealing-wax  upon  which  was  stamped  a  very  pretty  device ; 
for  this  was  the  almost  universal  style  in  those  days,  before 
envelopes  were  bought  and  sold,  and,  as  now,  sealed  with 
paste  or  gum  arabic.  This  little  note  was  slyly  slipped  into 
Colonel  Shelton's  large,  man-like,  soldier-looking  letter, 
which  resembled  somewhat,  in  size  and  shape,  the  dispatches 
he  used  to  send  the  commander-in-chief,  or  those  which  he 
sometimes  received  from  the  war-office. 

Ella  Shelton's  note  contained  but  few  lines,  but  they 
expressed  sufficiently  strong  her  anxiety  to  that  benevolent- 
hearted  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  Mr.  Hartwell,  who, 
although  he  had  seen  her  but  a  few  times  since  her  child- 
hood, regarded  her  with  most  affectionate  interest.  And 
was  not  his  interest  hightened  by  the  dark  mystery  which 
6 


122  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER  ]    OR, 

still  hung  about  the  fate  of  poor  Langdon,  whose  body  had 
never  been  recovered,  if,  indeed,  he  had  been  murdered  at 
all?  "Poor  Langdon,"  he  often  thought;  "what  has  be- 
come of  him  ?  If  he  has  indeed  been  murdered,  as  I  verily 
believe  he  has,  who  is  his  murderer?  and  where  has  he  con- 
cealed his  body! " 

Mr.  Hartwell  sighed  when  he  read  Colonel  Sheiton's  letter ; 
and  then  he  sighed  again  when  he  read  Miss  Ella's  note. 
For,  a  little  while  as-o.  he  knew  that  Colonel  Shelton  would 
have  prescribed  no  limits  to  his  commands,  and  would  have 
simply  given  an  emphatic  order  for  the  transportation  of 
the  most  celebrated  artist  in  the  city,  with  as  little  delay  as 
if  he  were  a  bale  of  merchandise.  With  him  once,  the  price, 
the  cost,  would  never  have  been  considered  a  single  mo- 
ment. But  when  Mr.  Hartwell  read  these  simple  lines,  and 
comprehended  their  child-like  earnestness — "  Do,  Mr.  Hart- 
well, make  the  dear,  good  man,  whoever  he  may  be,  come 
immediately,  before  little  Ella  dies  ;  and  if  he  won't  come 
for  fifty  dollars,  I  have  jewelry  and  diamonds  which  I  do 
not  wear  now,  but  keep  shut  up  in  a  private  drawer  ;  tell 
him  that  I  will  eive  him  all  these  sooner  than  he  should  n't 
come" — when  Mr.  Hartwell  read  these  lines,  and  appreciated 
the  deep  and  abiding  affection  of  the  young  lady  for  her 
little  slave  pining  away  and  dying  fast,  the  good  old  man  not 
only  sighed  again  more  deeply,  but  the  tears  rolled  down  his 
wrinkled  cheeks  and  fell  upon  the  page ;  and  he  exclaimed 
aloud,  "  God  bless  the  noble-minded  girl  !  At  any  cost  to 
me,  her  wishes  shall  be  obeyed,  but  not  a  ring  of  hers  shall 
be  sacrificed." 

There  was  an  artist  in  the  city  of  Savannah,  in  the  year 
1824,  who  was  then,  as  afterward,  justly  celebrated  as  a  por- 
trait painter.  But  the  time  was  coming  when  daguerreotypes 
and  ambrotypes  would  usurp  the  place  of  portrait  painting, 
and  tin-plates  and  window-glass  would  supersede  the  ancient 
and  time-honored  canvas  upon  which  a  Eaphael  or  an  Angelo 
had  spoken  with  the  brush  of  genius.     Then  none  but  an 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  123 

ariis,',  who  i'clt  at  least  some  of  the  fires  of  genius  in  his  soul, 
Could  make  the  canvas  breathe,  and  look,  and  almost  sp< 
as  the  living  soul.  Now,  any  clod-hopper  or  wood-cutter 
Can  lay  down  his  axe,  or  give  up  the  plow,  and  become,  in 
a  month's  practice,  "ajfirit-iate  artist;"  who  will  boast,  as 
he  rubs  on  a  little  red  vermilion,  or  white  lead,  or  lanip- 
1)1, ick.  "tlint  he  knows  all  ahoufc  painting  in  all  sorts  of 
colors,  from  white-washing  down  to  the  Grecian,  or  even 
Oriental,  painting." 

When  daguerreotypes  came  into  use,  poor  L had  to 

give  up  portrait  painting  or  starve  ;  for  who  would  give  fifty 
or  a  hundred  dollars  for  a  portrait  when  he  could  have  a 
daguerreotype  for  five  or  ten  dollars?  And  although  he  had 
to  resort  to  the  new  art  in  self-defense,  the  time  came  after- 
ward when  the  little  Frenchman  had  to  lay  away  his  brushes 
altogether;  and  folding  up  his  canvas,  to  be  painted  on  no 
more,  he  was  laid  away  himself  in  the  grave. 

Old  Toney  had  not  been  the  messenger  selected  by  Col- 
onel Shelton  to  take  the  gig  down  to  Savannah  for  the  por- 
trait painter,  Mr.   L ;  for  the  Colonel  well  knew  the 

repugnance  which  the  old  man  would  have  to  going  upon 
such  a  journey  to  a  city  which  had  disgraced  and  degra 
him  by  an  unjust  imprisonment  in  its  jail.  The  kind  mas- 
ter and  friend  was  unwilling  to  awake  sad  reminiscences  in 
the  mind  of  his  slave.  George,  therefore,  was  the  individual 
to  whom  Was  intrusted  the  execution  of  the  mission  ;  and 
to  him  Miss  Shelton  appealed,  that  if  he  loved  her  at  all, 
he  would  make  all  possible  haste  in  returning  with  the  artist 
from  Savannah. 

Up  to  this  time,  and  for  a  good  while  afterward,  George 
had  been  a  faithful  and  a  trustworthy  boy ;  and  the  least  wish 
of  his  young  mistress,  or  her  parents,  expressed  or  implied, 
would  impel  him  to  unusual  energy  and  activity  for  the 
accomplishment  of  their  designs,  or  the  fulfillment  of  their 
desires.  He  made  no  delay,  therefore — no  dilly-dallying 
upon   the   road  ;  but  went   and   came   with   the   haste   and 


124  OLD    TONEY   AND   HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

anxiety  of  the  man  who  goes  for  the  doctor,  and  is  afraid 
that  the  messenger  of  death  may  arrive  before  the  physician 
reaches  the  patient. 

Mr.  L was  a  kind-hearted  little  Frenchman,  and,  as 

most  little  men,  and  especially  little  Frenchmen,  usually  are, 
he  was  nervous  and  fidgety,  and  believed  in  going  to  work 
at  once  and  without  delay,  whenever  he  had  anything  to  do. 
No  sooner  had  the  case  been  stated  to  him  by  Mr.  Hart- 
well,  than  he  immediately  laid  aside  his  brush  and  the  work 
upon  which  he  was  engaged,  and  packing  everything  neces- 
sary into  a  small  trunk,  he  crossed  the  Savannah  river  that 
very  day  at  Union  Ferry,  and,  entering  the  gig  sans  cere- 
moniej  ordered  George  to  drive  on. 

"  Allez,  mon  garcon ;  allez  avec  depeche  et  avec  vitesse. 
Mademoiselle  Shelton  is  anxious  vere  mooch  for  un'  petite 
portrait  of  von  petite  negresse." 

No  sooner  had  little  Monsieur  L arrived  at  the  house 

of  Colonel  Shelton,  and  had  been  made  to  feel  comfortable 
and  at  home  by  a  good,  substantial  dinner,  which  he  had 
washed  down  with  a  few  tumblers  of  pure  old  claret,  than 
he  turned  toward  Miss  Shelton,  and  bowing  as  only  a  little 
Frenchman  can  bow,  and  rubbing  his  hands  as  only  a  little 
Frenchman  can,  he  said,  in  his  usual  style  of  half  French, 
half  English  : 

"  Mademoiselle  Shelton,  veuillez  a  donner  moi  l'opportunite 
to  see  la  petite  negresse  ?  Je  me  flatte  mongself  dat  I  will 
finish  de  portrait  in  one  leetle  while,  and  dat  you  shall  re- 
ceive satisfaction  complete  et  parfaite." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  your  ability,  monsieur,"  replied  Ella, 
with  a  courtesy ;  "  and  as  regards  your  dispatch,  I  can  assure 
you  that  all  of  it  is  necessary.  Make  ready,  sir,  all  your 
necessary  preparations  in  my  father's  library,  which  he  has 
offered  me  for  the  purpose,  and  I  will  have  the  little  sufferer 
brought  in  from  my  chamber  ;  for  she  sleeps  there  now, 
where  we  can  all  better  nurse  it  and  attend  to  its  wants." 

"  Je  n'ai  pas  objection  to  do  de  work  anywhere.  Je  n'ai  pas 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  125 

lionte,  mademoiselle,  to  paint  la  petite  negrcsse  in  your  room 
ou  in  dis  library.  Je  suis,  I  am  parfaitement  agreeable  to  wort 
anywhere  Mademoiselle  Shelton  may  t'ink  proper  to  direct." 

Ella  was  already  out  of  bearing  of  Mr.  L 's  innocent, 

but  offensive  remark  ;  and  in  a  few  moments  afterward  bad 
the  child  brought,  in  its  little  mahogany  cradle,  which  was 
carefully,  and,  by  Ella  Shelton's  directions,  very  gently  set 
down  in  the  middle  of  the  library.  It  was  an  ancient  but 
richly-carved  piece  of  furniture,  which  had  been  kept  a;  an 
heir-loom  in  the  family.  In  it  Colonel  Shclton's  own  wife 
had  been  rocked,  in  the  stormy  days  of  the  Revolution,  by 
Ella's  maternal  grandmother,  and  Mrs.  Shclton  had  cradled 
her  children  in  it  also.  But  now  that  she  needed  it  no 
more,  and  had  become  herself  a  venerable  matron,  it  was 
appropriated  to  the  use  of  little  Ella. 

When  Mr.  L saw  the  little  patient,  he  was  in  perfect 

ecstasy;  and  the  more  attentively  he  examined  her  features, 
and  looked  into  those  peculiarly  bright,  metallic,  lustrous 
eyes,  which  had  now  opened,  and  were  looking  steadily  into 
his,  the  more  ecstatic  he  became ;  and  when  a  Frenchman 
becomes  surcharged  with  ecstasy,  he  is  a  very  ecstatic  in- 
dividual indeed. 

"Eh,   mon   Dieu ! "  exclaimed   Mr.    L ,    clasping  his 

hands  together,  and  raising  his  eyes  upward ;  "  dis  petite 
negrcsse  will  make  one  ver'  grand  portrait.  La  bcaute  ! 
L'esprit  celeste  !  Quels  yeux  !  (what  eyes  !)  De  eyes  !  de 
eyes  !  how  can  I  paint  les  yeux  angelique  !  Dcy  are  de 
beauty-spot,  Mademoiselle  Shelton." 

Ella  assured  him  that  it  was  chiefly  for  this  that  she  had 
sent  for  him ;  for  while  she  had  herself  succeeded  in  paint- 
ing a  very  good  representation  of  little  Ella's  features,  she 
utterly  failed  to  represent  anything  like  the  expression  and 
peculiar  brightness  of  those  brightest  of  all  eyes  that  she 
had  ever  looked  upon,  and  which  seemed  to  grow  brighter, 
and  become  more  crystalline  or  metallic  every  day. 

"  It  is  the  eye,  monsieur,  as  well  as  the  features  which 


126  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

I  wish  you  so  particularly  to  represent  upon  canvas  ;  for, 
to  me  it  seems  not  only  the  brightest,  but  the  most  intel- 
ligent eye  that  I  ever  saw  in  an  infant's  head." 

uVer'  true,  mademoiselle.  Les  yeux  sont  intelligentes. 
Dey  are  tres,  ver'  luminous.  Les  yeux  sont  brilliant  as  de 
diamond.  '  De  meme  que  le  soleil  brille  sur  la  terre,  de 
meme  la  petite  ange  brillera  dans  les  cieux.' ' 

"  I  thank  you  kindly,  monsieur,"  said  Ella,  while  tears 
sprung  to  her  eyes  and  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  "  I  thank 
you  kindly  for  that  timely  quotation,  I  believe  from  Fenelon, 
which,  when  translated  into  plain  English,  would  be,  '  As 
the  sun  shines  upon  the  earth,  so  also  will  the  little  angel 
shine  in  heaven.'  " 

"  Yous  comprencz  parfaitement  my  meaning,  mademoiselle. 
I  t'ank  you  tres  beaucoup,  mademoiselle,  for  translate  de 
words  a  l'anglais.  But  mademoiselle  make  one  leetle  mis- 
take.    Dey  are  not  de  words  of  Fenelon,  but  1' Academic" 

Poor  L labored  hard  and  faithfully  to    transfer  to 

the  canvas  those  brilliant  orbs,  whose  light  seemed  already 
beginning  to  go  out,  and  grow  dimmer  and  paler  every 
moment,  as  the  light  of  the  glow-worm  pales  before  the 
rising  sun.  In  vain  did  the  artist  strive  to  do  a  work  which 
no  human  skill  could  execute.  God's  infinite  skill  alone  had 
drawn  those  features  and  painted  those  eyes,  and  there  was 
no  paint  on  earth  which  could  rival  the  tints  of  the  Eter- 
nal Artist;  no  brush  fine  enough  to  portray  those  eyes 
through  which  the  intelligent  soul  of  the  infant  seemed 
looking  out  upon  God's  earth,  for  a  little  while  only,  be- 
fore it  should  gaze  forever  upon  the  glories  of  heaven.  And 
even  now,  as  the  artist  dipped  his  brush  into  his  paint,  and 
brushed  away  rapidly  upon  the  canvas,  the  infant  spirit  was 
unfolding  its  win°;s  for  its  heavenward  flight. 

Ella  had  stepped  to  the  window,  and  was  looking  out  into 

the  flower-garden,  when  Mr.  L turned  his  eyes  again 

upon  the  child,  and,  thinking  that  he  perceived  a  new  and  sin- 
gular expression  in  little  Ella's  features,  exclaimed,  hurriedly : 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  127 

"  Eli,  mon  Dieu  !  Mademoiselle  Shelton  !  voila  la  petite 
ange  !  "* 

Ella  ran  to  the  cradle,  and  kneeling  down,  she  took  the 
hand  of  her  little  namesake  very  gently  in  hers.  The  babe 
smiled  as  it  looked,  for  the  last  time,  into  the  eyes  of  its 
mistress,  and  then,  rolling  upward  those  bright  orbs  which 
the  artist  would  never  more  have  an  opportunity  to  paint 
while  the  soul — the  immortal  soul — was  looking  out  of  them, 
she  turned  her  head  from  side  to  side  for  a  few  moments,  and 
several  times  flung  upward  her  little  hands,  as  if  bidding 
adieu  to  her  mistress  and  the  world,  or  impatient  to  be  gone. 

Ella  raised  her  head  and  looked  up  at  Mr.  L .     The 

little  man's  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and  his  cheeks  were  wet 
with  weeping.  She  felt  not  only  grateful  to  him  for  his 
tenderness  and  sympathy,  but  thankful  to  God  that  he  had 
made  the  heart  of  man  so  tender  and  kind.  She  spoke  to 
him  in  a  low  voice,  and  bade  him  go  call  the  child's  mother 
and  the  rest  of  the  family  ;  for,  at  such  a  moment,  she  did 
not  think  it  proper  to  stand  upon  ceremonies,  or  confine 
herself  to  the  rules  of  etiquette.  Indeed,  how  could  she 
herself  leave  her  pet  when  in  the  very  agonies  of  death  ? 
For  these  signs,  as  gentle  as  they  were — that  tossing  of  the 
head  from  side  to  side,  and  those  upliftings  of  the  little 
hands. — were  none  other  than  those  agonies  which  all  human 
nature  must  endure,  when  the  spirit  is  about  to  leave  the 
body,  and  the  clayey  tenement  is  tumbling  in.  If  little 
Ella  had  been  a  strong  adult,  or  had  her  constitution  never 
been  undermined  by  disease,  she  would  have  been  convulsed, 
perhaps,  by  hard  spasms,  whose  excruciating  tortures  would 
have  wrung  from  her  lips  suppressed  shrieks  and  agonizing 
cries  of  pain.  But,  as  it  was,  she  only  tossed  her  hands 
into  the  air  a  few  times,  and  turned  her  head  from  side  to 
side  upon  the  pillow,  and  then  she  was  still.  The  spirit  had 
flashed  from  those  bright  eyes  and  left  them  dull  and  dark 

*  See  the  little  angel. 


128  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

and  glazed  in  death.  When  the  child  was  dead,  Mons. 
L ,  with  a  sad  smile,  quoted  from  Delille  those  beau- 
tiful words, 

"  Voyez  cc  papillon  ecbappe  du  tombeau  ; 

Sa  mort  fut  un  sommeil,  et  sa  tombe  un  borceau." 
"See  tbat  butterfly  escaped  from  the  tomb! 

Its  death  was  slumber,  aud  its  tomb  a  cradle." 

"So  appropriate,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Mons.  L ;  "  Its 

tomb  was  a  cradle." 

And  the  kind-hearted  little  Frenchman  would  have  been 
still  more  ecstatic  if  he  had  subsequently  seen  the  little 
slave  arranged  for  burial,  lying  in  its  little  coffin,  in  a  bed 
of  flowers,  like  a  little  cupid  who  had  gone  to  sleep  upon  a 
bed  of  roses,  and  had  been  treacherously  slain  in  his  slum- 
ber by  the  revengeful  hand  of  one  of  his  victims,  or  had 
become  narcotised  by  some  noxious  flower,  whose  captivat- 
ing appearance,  and  delicious,  but  deceitful  fragrance  had 
lulled  not  only  to  slumber,  but  had  cheated  and  oppressed 
with  the  sleep  of  death. 

The  Cupid  sleeping  iipon  a  bed  of  roses,  poisoned  by  some, 
narcotic  flower  !  So  looked  "little  Ella" — u  not  dead,  how- 
ever, but  asleep  in  Jesus!" 

When  Mr.  L returned  with  Lucy  and  Mr.  Shelton, 

and  before  the  household  could  assemble  in  the  library, 
little  Ella  was  in  heaven,  with  her  head  pillowed  upon  the 
great  Shepherd  of  souls.  He  who  had  said,  "  Suffer  little 
children  to  come  unto  me  and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such 
is  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  had  called  the  poor,  bleating 
little  lamb  by  its  name,  and  had  taken  it  up  in  his  arms  to 
carry  it  in  his  bosom. 

Mr.  L wiped  his  brushes  carefully,  and,  with  a  sigh, 

placed  them  away.  He  would  need  them  no  more,  at  least 
to  paint  the  eyes  of  little  Ella,  who  was  already  cold  and 
stiffening.  He  returned  to  his  home  the  next  day;  but, 
although  he  had  not  executed  the  work  he  had  come  to  do, 
and  had  failed  to  paint  those  eyes,  even  as  he  had  predicted 


THE    ABOLTTTONI8T    AND    TTTE    LAND-PIRATE.  129 

from  the  first,  when  he  had,  with  lofty  expression  and  sol- 
emn tones,  said,  as  he  pointed  upward  with  his  hand,  "  Dc 
mOme  que  le  soleil  brillc  sur  la  terre,  de  meme  la  petite 
#nge  brillcra  dans  les  cieux,"  still  Ella  Shelton  would  thrust 
into  his  hand  the  fifty  dollar  bill,  just  the  same  as  if  he  had 
completed  his  work  to  her  entire  satisfaction. 

"Non,  mademoiselle!  Je  ne  suis  pas  one  rascaile !  non, 
non.  Je  n'ai  pas — I  have  not — no  artist  could  paint  les  yeux 
dc  la  petite  ange.    I  can  not — did  not  earn  dc  l'argent."    But 

notwithstanding  the  reluctance  of  Mons.  L to  receive 

the  proffered  fee  of  Ella  Shelton,  he  consented,  at  length,  to 
accept,  as  a  gift,  "  one  leetle  petit  memento,"  a  sum  of  money 
which  he  could  not  claim  as  a  reward  for  his  fruitless  and 
ineffectual  labors.  And  as  the  little  man  shook  Colonel 
Shelton  by  the  hand,  and  bade  adieu  to  the  mourning  Fam- 
ily,  his  own  eyes  filled  again  with  tears,  when,  last  of  all,  he 
said  farewell  to  Ella  Shelton,  and,  with  a  tremulous  voice,  as 
he  looked  into  her  own  glorious,  brilliant  orbs,  as  if  apos- 
trophising them,  exclaimed,  with  rapture:  "Quels  yeux! 
quels  yeux  !  (what  eyes  !  what  e}^es  !)  Mon  Dieu,  mademoi- 
selle !  I  am  tres  sorrowful  dat  I  could  not  paint  les  yeux 
de  1'arige." 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  L ,"  said  Ella,  tearfully.     "  I  am  very 

sorry  to  have  troubled  you  with  a  long  and  tedious  journey 
for  nothing." 

"Ne  pas  apology,  mademoiselle.  Je  suis  tres  bicn — ver' 
well  paid  for  my  trouble,  for  I  have  seen  les  yeux  de  la 
petite  ange." 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  and  those  eyes  of  that  little  angel,  as  you 
remarked  yesterday,  will  shine  forever  in  heaven." 

6* 


130  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS  MASTER;    OR, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

/^?  HE  day  after  little  Ella's  death  the  coffin  was  made,  by 
i&)}  a  coimtry  carpenter  hired  for  the  purpose.  It  was 
(gy@  a  very  neat  little  coffin,  but  perfectly  plain,  without 
%y>  any  paint  or  cloth  upon  it.  This  did  not  suit  either 
the  taste  of  Ella  Shelton  or  her  mother.  George  was 
therefore  sent  to  the  store  with  an  order  for  some  fine  white 
cambric  or  muslin.  When  the  cambric  arrived,  the  carpen- 
ter covered  the  little  coffin  very  neatly — as  neatly  as  though 
he  had  been  born  and  bred  an  undertaker.  It  was  lined 
inside  and  out  with  the  white  stuff,  and  when  a  little  frilled 
pillow  was  placed  in  it,  the  coffin  seemed  more  like  a  cradle 
than  a  gloomy,  narrow  cell  for  the  dead.  And  to  add  still 
more  to  its  cheerfulness,  and  yet  to  give  it  an  appearance 
of  half  mourning,  Ella  Shelton  dressed  it  very  tastefully 
with  black  ribbon,  which  was  tied  in  knots  and  bows,  in  a 
way  which  can  only  be  adjusted  by  a  woman  of  ingenuity 
and  elegant  taste. 

Little  Ella  was  now  placed  in  her  death's  bed,  and  when 
her  head  lay  so  still  upon  the  pillow,  she  seemed  as  if 
asleep,  with  a  smile  playing  around  her  lips,  which  seemed 
to  be  moving  every  now  and  then,  as  the  light  and  shade 
fell  upon  them,  as  if  in  her  dreams  she  heard  the  whisper 
of  angels. 

Ella  was  kneeling  down  by  the  side  of  the  coffin,  looking, 
with  clasped  hands,  at  the  placid  features  of  this  dead  child, 
when  Fetie  entered,  silently  and  as  noiselessly  as  a  spirit, 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  131 

the  chamber  of  death.  The  blind  girl,  ever  fond  of  flowers, 
had  come  with  an  armful  of  beautiful  roses,  and  tulips,  and 
jessamines.  Ella  had  been  praying  when  she  entered,  and  it 
was  not  until  she  smelled  the  delightful  odor  and  combined 
fragrance  of  the  sweetest  of  all  flowers,  that  she  became 
conscious  that  Fetie  was  in  the  room.  Ella  rose  from  her 
knees  and  kissed  Fetie  upon  her  cheek,  but  her  heart  was 
too  full  to  speak.  Fetie  understood  the  eloquence  of  that 
kiss,  and  the  tears  streamed  continuously  down  the  checks 
of  the  blind  girl.  It  was  the  eloquence  of  grief  and  the 
kiss  of  sorrow. 

Fetie  had  not  been  to  Colonel  Shelton's  for  two  or  three 
days  past,  and  had  just  heard  that  morning  of  the  death 
of  little  Ella.  As  soon  as  she  was  apprised  of  this  sad  event 
— sad  to  her  also — she  started  off  from  home,  with  her  little 
brother  to  guide  her  on  the  way,  and  gathered  flowers  as 
she  went.  When  she  brought  them  into  the  room,  which 
so  soon  became  filled  with  their  fragrance,  Ella  Shelton 
conjectured  rightly  in  a  moment  for  what  purpose  the  blind 
girl,  who  loved  flowers  so,  had  brought  them.  She  took 
them  from  Fetie's  hand,  and  said,  "  Yes,  darling,  we  will 
weave  a  chaplet  for  the  little  angel  ;  at  least  we  will  decor- 
ate the  house  in  which  the  angel  lived,  but  which  it  has 
left  dark  and  desolate."  So  they  wove  a  beautiful  garland 
of  wild,  and  of  tame  flowers  also,  which  they  placed  as  a 
coronet  around  the  brow  of  the  dead  infant ;  and  then  they 
strewed  flowers  all  around  her  in  the  coffin,  and  placed  a 
white  tuberose,  plucked  from  the  flower-garden — a  single 
tuberose — in  little  Ella's  hand.  Her  hands  were  not  clasped 
upon  the  breast,  as  the  hands  of  an  adult,  who  needs  to 
pray  all  his  life,  and  whose  very  corpse  should  exhibit  that 
same  attitude  of  helplessness,  and  resignation,  and  depend- 
ence upon  God.  But  little  Ella  herself  had  never  committed 
sin,  and  there  was  no  need  that  her  hands  should  be  clasped 
upon  her  breast.  They  were  left  unchanged,  just  as  she 
died  and  had  lain  in  the  cradle — one  hand  upon  the  pillow, 


132  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

close  to  her  cheek,  and  the  other  by  her  side,  as  it  fell 
when  she  waved  her  adieu,  for  the  last  time,  to  her  dear 
mistress  and  the  world  she  was  leaving.  It  was  in  that 
hand  that  Ella  placed  the  tuberose,  so  white  and  fragrant. 
Little  Ella  seemed  not  dead,  nor  lying  in  a  coffin,  but 
sleeping  sweetly  in  a  bed  of  flowers.  Surely  death  loses  half 
his  terrors  when  a  corpse  is  thus  arrayed  for  burial ;  and  a 
graveyard  is  an  attractive  and  a  pleasant  spot,  when  planted 
in  flowers  and  adorned  with  tasteful  shrubbery. 

Little  Ella  was  buried  the  next  day  behind  the  vegetable 
garden,  which  was  back  of  the  dwelling-house ;  and  thither 
Ella  Shelton  repaired  every  day,  to  kneel  down  at  the  side 
of  the  little  grave,  and  pray  as  she  had  knelt  by  the  side  of 
the  coffin.  And  she  planted  flowers,  and  shrubs,  and  trees, 
and  watered  them  with  her  tears.  And  around  the  grave 
there  grew  a  hedge  of  the  wild  orange,  which  she  carefully 
kept  trimmed,  as  an  evergreen  wall  around  the  grave,  im- 
penetrable almost  to  man  or  beast.  In  this  evergreen  wall, 
and  at  the  side  facing  the  east,  she  had  jdaced  a  little  wicker- 
gate,  woven  like  a  basket,  with  the  long,  supple  switches  of 
the  basket-willow,  and  the  door  was  fastened  with  a  latch. 
Within  the  inclosure,  and  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  she  had 
caused  to  be  planted,  with  much  care,  a  weeping-willow, 
which  grew  without  any  difficulty,  and  put  forth,  the  next 
spring,  fresh  leaves  ;  and  at  the  foot  of  the  grave  grew  a 
little  dwarf  cedar.  It  was  a  beautiful  and  a  holy  spot.  Who 
could  have  imagined  that  one  year  afterward  that  sacrecl 
retreat  would  be  invaded  by  a  ruthless  villain,  and  that  Na- 
ture's sanctuary  should  be  polluted  by  the  unhallowed  foot- 
steps of  an  inhuman  wretch  ? 

But  there  was  a  new  cause  of  distress  coming  upon  the 
family  of  the  Sheltons,  which,  from  its  magnitude,  was  likely 
to  swallow  up  and  obliterate  the  memory  of  all  other  sub- 
jects for  sorrow  and  repining.  Afflictions  seldom  come 
singly,  but  one  by  one,  as  do  the  merciful  favors  of  a  ben- 
eficent Hod.     But,  as  in  Nature  the  lightning's  flash  is  seen 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  133 

before  the  thunder's  peal  is  heard,  so  also  God  gives  us  warn- 
ing of  his  coming.  And  although  he  may  seem  very  angry 
now,  yet  his  anger  will,  by-and-by,  pass  away,  and  his  sun 
shall  smile  upon  the  face  of  the  cloud.  "  God  tempers  the 
wind  to  the  shorn  lamb  ;"  and  when  the  little  shorn  lamb, 
stripped  of  all  its  fleece,  and  left  in  its  nakedness  of  inno- 
cence and  truth,  is  so  pelted  by  the  hail-stones  that  it  lies 
down  upon  the  rugged  heath,  bleating  for  its  heavenly  Fa- 
ther, and  longing  to  be  at  rest,  then  God  comes  and  lifts 
the  dead  lamb  in  his  arms,  and  breathes  back  into  its  nos- 
trils its  lost  life,  and  warms,  with  his  infinite  love,  its  frozen 
heart,  and  carries  it  gently  and  forever  in  his  bosom.  Blessed 
Father,  0 !  take  the  shorn  lambs,  who  are  pelted  by  the 
storms  of  life,  and  are  so  bruised,  and  battered,  and  broken 
that  they  feel  now  that  earth  is  no  longer  their  home,  and 
that  their  only  haven  of  rest  is  in  heaven  ;  and  the  only 
pillow  whereon  they  can  pillow  their  aching  heads,  and  feel 
so  happy,  because  the  head  aches  no  more,  and  the  heart 
is  cramped  no  longer  with  anguish,  is  the  everlasting  pil- 
low of  the  gentle  Jesus's  breast,  who  says,  "  Come  unto  me, 
all  ye  that  labor,  and  are  weary  and  heavy  laden,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest."  0!  "temper  the  winds" — those  cold 
and  cutting  winds  of  adversity — to  the  shorn  lamb.  And 
when  the  winds  are  too  fierce  to  be  tempered,  and  last  too 
long  for  this  life,  and  the  shorn  lamb  is  forced  to  lie  down 
upon  some  bleak  and  flinty  rock,  where  the  cold  rain  can 
pelt  it,  and  the  hard  sleet  drive  against  it  most  pitilessly — 
where  the  cold  is  above  it,  and  a  frozen  rock  beneath  it — ■ 
where  all  around  is  nothing  but  ice  and  snow,  and  the  winds 
are  howling  in  rage,  or  whistling  in  derision,  the  dying  or 
the  dead  lamb's  dirge,  then,  even  then,  0  !  take  the  dead 
lamb  in  thy  loving  arms,  and  bear  it  still  upon  thy  bosom. 
The  warmth  of  a  Savior's  infinite  love  shall  thaw  the  frozen 
limbs,  and  cause  the  dead  life  to  live  again,  even  as  the  green 
bay-tree,  when  it  is  cut  down,  sends  up  its  young  shoots  and 
tender  branches. 


134  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  J    OR, 

The  new  affliction  and  subject  for  grief  which  was  coming 
upon  this  already  deeply-afflicted  family  was  the  failing 
health — every  day  failing  health — of  Colonel  Shelton.  In 
less  than  one  short  year,  the  old  soldier  seemed  to  have 
grown  at  least  ten  years  older.  His  tread  was  no  longer 
firm,  nor  his  look  commanding  ;  for  his  back  was  bent,  and 
his  shoulders  stooped,  his  head  bowed,  and  his  eyes  were 
ever  bent  upon  the  ground,  as  though  he  was  looking  for 
the  grave  of  his  lost  son,  where  he  mrght  lie  down  by  his 
side  and  be  at  rest.  Once  he  had  leaned  upon  his  sword 
only,  with  the  dignity  of  a  soldier  "  at  rest,"  and  with  the 
imperial  look  of  a  conqueror,  whose  hand  had  become  wearie'd 
by  his  conquests  ;  but  now  he  leaned  heavily  upon  his  staff, 
a  gold-headed  cane,  which  seemed  too  heavy  for  him,  for 
he  lifted  it  slowly,  and  dragged  his  feet  one  after  the  other, 
as  if  they  could  hardly  carry  him  much  further — not  even 
to  his  own  grave,  which  he  was  looking  for,  that  he  might 
make  one  last,  weary  step  over  its  brink,  and  sink  down 
heavily  to  his  rest. 

Poor  old  man  !  there  was  a  weight  upon  his  heart  as 
heavy  as  many,  many  pounds  of  lead,  which  was  dragging 
him  down,  and  sinking  him  under  the  earth  as  surely  as  a 
huge  rock  which  has  been  tied  to  a  dead  carcass  to  sink 
it  to  the  bottom  of  the  channel.  Once,  when  he  was  young, 
and  his  spirit  was  buoyant  and  strong  as  his  heart  was  brave, 
he  might  have  resisted  the  leaden  weight,  and  flounced,  and 
floundered,  and  floated  at  last  upon  life's  current  as  still  as 
a  buoy  which  has  been  anchored  in  the  channel  to  indicate 
to  the  life -mariner  where  the  deep  water  lay.  But,  alas  ! 
either  the  channel  had  washed  deeper,  or  the  cable  had  con- 
tracted, and  its  links  kinked  upward — that  the  cable  had 
become  too  short,  and  the  anchor  too  heavy,  or  the  buoy  too 
light,  longer  to  remain  floating  upon  the  surface,  and  anchored 
to  the  same  spot.  The  old  man  was  sinking,  sinking,  sink- 
ing, as  surely  as  a  cork  which  is  too  light  for  the  sinker. 

Mrs.   Shelton   and  her  daughter  were  deeply  pained  at 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  135 

heart,  and  filled  with  dismay,  as  they  saw  the  beloved  old 
man's  knees  trembling  more  and  more  every  day,  and  his 
gait  becoming  more  irregular  and  unsteady,  as  he  traveled 
so  rapidly  the  downward  hill  of  life.  How  hard  it  is  to 
move  a  heavy  stone  which  stands  ever  almost  balanced  as 
on  a  pivot  upon  the  brow  of  a  hill  or  brink  of  a  precipice. 
But  once  moved  from  its  bed,  and  it  has  started  upon  its 
downward  progress,  who  so  rash  or  foolish  as  to  stand  in 
its  way,  or  hope  to  stop  it?  For  as  it  rolls  downward,  it 
gathers  velocity  as  it  rolls,  with  increasing  ratio,  until  it 
reaches  the  vale  below,  and  then  it  is  still.  So,  too,  with 
the  old  who  have  started  upon  the  downward  journey  of 
life.  No  medicine  can  arrest  their  progress,  which  some- 
times is  as  rapid  as  the  flight  of  a  bird  ;  or,  like  the  stone, 
no  one  can  stop  their  rolling  until  they  have  reached  the 
"valley  and  shadow  of  death,"  and  then  they  lie  still — 
"as  still  as  a  stone." 

"What  observer  has  watched  the  rapid  decay  of  the  old 
and  venerable  man,  so  lately  seeming  erect  in  his  manly 
pride  and  vigor,  without  a  feeling  of  regret  that  the  old 
and  the  venerable  are  passing  away.  Sad  thought!  and 
doubly  sad  because  we  shall  become  old,  also,  if  we  die  not 
young ;  and  then  we  shall  lie  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  where 
Death  has  hurled  us  with  his  strong-  hand. 

But  Colonel  Shelton  was  not  dying  from  old  age,  although 
"Time  had  silvered  o'er"  his  once  raven  locks.  He  was 
dying  daily  from  that  fatal  marasmus,  not  only  of  the  mus- 
cular system,  but  of  the  heart  and  the  brain  also,  which  is 
induced  by  a  grief  which  can  not  be  subdued,  a  sorrow  which 
can  not  be  suppressed. 

There  is  a  heart-breaking  which  is  sudden,  and  a  heart- 
breaking which  is  slow.  In  either  event,  however,  death  is 
certain,  as  the  heart  is  broken. 

In  vain  did  they  seek  to  distract  the  Colonel's  attention 
from  the  consideration  of  his  secret  sorrows.  In  vain  did 
Mrs.  Shelton  strive  to  be  cheerful,  and  Ella  to  be  gay,  in 


136  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

order,  if  possible,  to  change  the  current  of  his  thoughts,  and 
make  him  forget,  even  for  a  moment  only,  his  dear,  darling 
boy,  who  had  disappeared  so  mysteriously,  and  whose  young 
life  had  ceased  so  suddenly,  like  a  gallant  bark,  with  strong 
timbers,  and  fresh  canvas,  and  wide-spread  sails,  which  has 
been,  all  at  once,  swallowed  up  by  a  maelstrom,  or  has  toppled 
over  some  ocean  cataract.  In  vain  were  all  their  attempts 
to  make  the  old  soldier  smile  as  he  used  to  do ;  for  his 
smile  now  was  only  the  sad  smile  which  for  a  moment 
plays  around  the  lips,  but  does  not  light  up  the  eye  of  the 
broken-hearted. 

There  was  a  time,  however — it  was  in  the  first  cold  days 
of  December — when  Colonel  Shelton  seemed  to  possess  the 
strength  of  the  lion  when  he  makes  his  last  death-spring 
upon  the  enemy  whose  arrow  is  quivering  in  his  heart. 

There  was  a  man  residing  not  very  far  off — but  a  couple 
of  miles  from  the  house  of  Colonel  Shelton — whose  name 
was  Timothy  Pollywog.  He  was  a  little  man,  but  a  great 
pest  to  the  community ;  for  he  was  one  of  those  intolerable 
mischief-makers  and  scandal-mongers  with  which  almost 
every  community  is  infested,  in  some  shape  or  other,  whether 
in  the  form  of  a  man,  a  woman,  or  a  child.  Yes,  every 
community  has  a  pollywog  who  is  ever  wriggling  and  ever 
twisting  the  truth  into  a  lie.  Pity  it  is  so.  But  often  it 
is  the  ease  that  there  is  not  only  one,  but  a  great  many  polly- 
wogs;  and  they  can  always  be  known  by  their  tale,  (tail?) 
which  is,  "  They  say."  As  surely  as  you  can  say,  "That 
is  an  embryo  frog,  although  it  has  now  a  tail;  it  is  a  polly- 
wog, it  is  true,  but  it  is  none  the  less  a  frog."  So,  also,  that 
man  or  woman  is  a  slanderer  at  heart,  a  liar  and  a  calumni- 
ator, who  invariably  preface  their  calumnious  expressions 
with  "  They  say."  As  the  pollywog  is  forced  to  drop  its 
tail  and  become  a  cold  and  repulsive  animal,  pity  that  all 
the  human  pollywogs  could  not  relapse  into  as  harmless  and 
quiescent  a  state  of  existence  as  that  of  the  toad,  or  leap 
into  the  more  dignified  condition  of  the  bullfrog.     Better 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  137 

that  their  tongues  should  never  wag,  if  only  to  engender 
strife  and  produce  heart-burnings. 

Mr.  Polly wog  was  just  one  of  those  men  who  envies  the 
riches  or  the  talents  and  superior  attainments  of  another, 
which  he  can  never  possess.  Too  indolent  to  work,  his 
whole  time  was  spent  in  going  from  house  to  house  making 
mischief  and  retailing  scandal.  It  is  astonishing  that  one 
whose  character  was  so  well  known  should  have  been  re- 
ceived so  freely  into  their  houses.  But  is  it  not  true  that 
the  majority  of  persons  love  to  listen  to  slander,  although 
they  may  despise  the  slanderer?  Indeed,  when  we  come  to 
examine  into  the  subject  more  closely,  we  conclude  that,  as 
a  general  rule,  and  in  most  communities,  the  society  of  the 
tale-bearer  and  teller  is  usually  courted  and  sought  after 
from  two  separate  reasons  :  the  first,  as  a  means  of  self- 
defense,  indulging  the  vain  hope  that  you  yourself  will  be 
spared,  or  let  off  more  easily,  and  your  character  not  so  badly 
riddled  as  your  neighbor's  by  the  invidious  tongue  of  the 
slanderer  ;  and  then,  again,  that  you  may  be  gratified  a  little 
— just  a  little — to  hear,  from  the  lips  of  the  human  polly- 
wog,  how  very  badly  riddled  your  poor  neighbor's  character 
has  been.  It  is  only  the  noble  and  the  high-minded  who 
spurn  them  with  contempt,  and  shrink  from  their  touch  as 
from  the  approach  of  a  worm,  or  toad,  or  hideous  reptile. 

Now,  it  is  natural  to  suppose,  that  for  such  a  man  as  Tim- 
othy Pollywog  Colonel  Shelton  could  have  no  fancy,  but 
rather  a  decided  repugnance.  While,  therefore,  he  would 
receive  him  politely,  and  with  his  old  urbanity,  as  even  lie 
would  an  unbidden  guest,  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  despised 
him  as  a  tattler  and  busybody  in  other  men's  affairs. 
Whenever  Timothy  Pollywog  dropped  in,  as  he  sometimes 
did,  notwithstanding  the  reserve  with  which  he  was  treated, 
Colonel  Shelton  as  often  invited  him  to  be  seated,  but  never 
joined  in  nor  participated  in  the  conversation  further  than 
to  reply  in  monosyllables.  This,  of  course,  invariably  net- 
tled  such   a   narrow-minded   fellow  as  Timothy  Pollywog, 


138  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS  MASTER  ;    OR, 

who,  in  his  heart,  felt  that  the  Colonel  despised  him,  while 
he,  in  proportion  as  that  contempt  became  more  apparent, 
or  was  made  more  manifest  by  still  greater  silence,  envied 
the  superior  dignity  and  learning  to  which  he  could  never 
hope  to  attain. 

"  Grood-morning,  Colonel  Shelton,"  said  Timothy  Polly- 
wog,  as  he  took  the  seat  which  the  old  gentleman  indicated 
with  his  hand,  but  without  attempting  to  rise  from  his  seat 
to  welcome  the  intruder.  "  Still  grieving,  Colonel,  about 
your  son?" 

Not  a  muscle  of  the  Colonel's  face  moved  now,  although 
at  other  times  he  would  have  exhibited,  at  least  to  a  shrewd 
observer,  some  signs  of  distress. 

"No,  sir!"  he  replied,  "my  grief  is  ended,  for  I  feel 
that  it  will  not  be  long  before  I  meet  my  boy  in  the  spirit- 
land,  for  I  well  know  that  my  days  are  numbered" 

He  dropped  his  voice  almost  to  a  whisper  when  he  uttered 
the  last  words,  as  if  afraid  that  his  wife  or  daughter  might 
catch  his  words,  and  be  distressed  by  their  import.  Mr. 
Pollywog  understood  him  perfectly ;  but  such  was  his  innate 
love  of  causing  pain  in  others,  however  feeble  or  distressed, 
that  he  drew  his  chair  closer  to  the  Colonel's,  and  placed 
his  hand  confidingly  upon  the  arm-chair  in  which  the  old 
soldier  was  seated. 

"Don't  talk  so,  Colonel!  I  wouldn't  think  of  dying, 
if  I  was  you,  about  that  young  scapegrace,  as  they  call 
him  ! " 

"Who  calls  my  son  by  such  a  foul  title?"  said  Colonel 
Shelton,  drawing  himself  back  and  looking  Timothy  Polly- 
wog full  in  the  face. 

Now  Mr.  Pollywog  was  by  no  means  a  downright  coward  ; 
at  least,  he  was  not  afraid  of  an  old  man  trembling  upon 
the  brink  of  the  grave.  But  it  is  exceedingly  improbable 
that  he  ever  would  have  said  as  much  on  the  present  oc- 
casion, and  with  so  little  apprehension  of  the  consequences, 
had  he  understood  the  strong;  character  with  whom  he  had 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  139 

now  to  deal.     Without  any  fear,  and  not  feeling  the  scorn 
with  which  Colonel  Shelton  regarded  him,  he  coolly  replied  : 

"0!   thy  say" 

"And  what,  sir,  do  they  say?"  was  the  question  asked  by 
Colonel  Shelton,  in  low,  suppressed  tones,  while  his  teeth 
were  set  hard  together,  giving  the  angle  of  his  lower  jaw 
the  appearance  as  if  he  were  biting  upon  a  nail,  or  other 
hard  substance,  until  the  muscles  of  his  face  became  prom- 
inent and  rigid,  and  his  eyes  began  to  burn  with  their 
old  ferocity  when  kindled  by  the  flash  and  smoke  of 
baffle.  "  What  do  they  say,  Mr.  Pollywog?"  he  repeated 
sternly. 

"0,  sir,  don't  be  so  excited!  But  they  do  say  a  great 
deal,"  was  the  reply  of  Timothy  Pollywog,  who  paused  for 
a  while,  as  if  waiting  for  Colonel  Shelton  to  ask  him  what 
"they"  did  say.  But  as  the  old  Colonel  sat  motionless, 
without  repeating  his  question,  he  made  bold  to  add  :  "  They 
say,  Colonel  Shelton,  that  't  ain't  at  all  likely  that  your  son 
was  ever  murdered  ;  that  it  do  n't  look  reasonable-like  !  For 
if  he  had  been  murdered,  ain't  it  probable  that  the  corpse 
of  the  young  man  would  have  turned  up  by  this  time? 
Now,  you  see,  they  say  that  the  buzzards  have  sharp  eyes 
and  a  keen  scent,  and  they  had  ought  to  know  where  to 
find  the  dead  body  of  your  son  before  this." 
"Well,  sir,  what  then?" 

"  Why,  you  see  now,  Colonel,  the  fact  of  the  business  is, 
that  under  such  circumstances,  if  I  was  you,  and  it  was  my 
son  what  had  gone  off  so  suddenly,  I  wouldn't  grieve  for 
him  a  bit;  you  oughtn't  to  take  on  so  ;  for  they  say,  that  ten 
chances  to  one,  that  your  son  has  run  away  with  the  money, 
and  has  gone  to  make  his  fortune  in  the  West,  where  he 
will  get  to  be  a  very  rich  man  after  a  while,  and  come  back 
like  a  good  boy  when  he  has  sowed  all  his  wild  oats,  and, 
perhaps,  at  last,  make  his  old  father  and  mother  very  rich 
and  comfortable  again  in  their  old  days.  They  say  (hat  he 
ought  to  do  it;  and,  for  my  part,  I  have  no  doubt  in  the 


140  OLD  TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

world,  if  he  is  a  good  son,  that  he  will  do  it.  So  just  wait, 
Colonel,  and  have  patience  ;  do  n't  fret  so." 

Old  men  are  apt  to  receive  impressions  slowly.  A  thought 
does  not  flash  upon  them  with  the  vividness  or  suddenness 
of  youth  ;  but  once  the  impression  is  produced  and  the  idea 
becomes  daguerreotyped  upon  the  brain,  they  feel  as  strong- 
ly, and  suffer  as  acutely,  as  do  the  young,  whose  impressions 
are  only  quicker,  though  not  a  whit  more  powerful.  The 
young  man  avenges  an  insult  the  moment  it  is  given;  the 
old  man  feels  the  insult  slowly,  gradually,  and  his  muscles 
are  all  the  while  tightening  as  he  begins  to  comprehend 
the  nature  of  the  indignity,  or  feels  the  smart  of  the  blow 
which  has  struck  him. 

Thus  only  can  it  be  explained  by  any  principle  of  physi- 
ology that  Colonel  Shelton  did  not  strike  Timothy  Polly- 
wog  to  the  floor,  or  strangle  him  to  death  in  a  moment  of 
indignation,  before  the  contemptible  fellow  had  half  finished 
the  long  paragraph  which  we  have  written  down.  For  if 
the  old  Colonel  had  been  as  he  once  was,  young  and  vigorous, 
and  prompt  in  action,  or  even  if  the  same  words  had  been 
addressed  to  him  just  one  year  before,  Mr.  Timothy  Polly wog 
would  never,  perhaps,  have  been  able  to  have  finished  those 
sentences,  so  infamous  and  so  cruel  in  their  insinuations.  In 
all  probability  Colonel  Shelton  would  have  knocked  his 
teeth  down  his  throat,  so  that  he  would  have  been  as  much 
choked  in  swallowing  them  as  he  ou^ht  to  have  been  in 
giving  utterance  to  his  vile  slanders.  But,  as  we  remarked 
before,  Colonel  Shelton  was  an  old  man,  and  he  per&iped 
the  insult  slowly.  But  as  the  red-hot  iron  hisses  and  smokes 
until  it  heats  the  coldest  water,  and  will  create  sufficient 
steam  to  burst  a  boiler,  however  strong,  or  propel  a  locomo- 
tive, however  heavy,  so,  also,  were  those  seething  words 
gradually  producing  their  legitimate  effect ;  and  when  Tim- 
othy Pollywog  had  finished  his  string  of  calumnies,  the  old 
man's  indignation  had  risen  to  its  hight.  and  he  became 
strong  as  the  wounded  lion,  who  gathers  up  his  limbs  and 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  141 

concentrates  all  his  strength  in  one  last  death-spring  upon 
his  murderous  foe.  His  eyes  opened  wider  and  wider,  until 
they  blazed  like  two  fire-balls,  or  rather  with  that  fixed, 
electric  light,  which  never  flares  nor  flickers,  but  grows 
larger  and  brighter.  His  firm  and  still  undecayed  teeth 
were  pressed  hard  against  each  other,  as  if  immovably  locked 
by  tetanus  or  lock-jaw,  and  his  temporal  muscles  became 
swollen  and  as.  rigid  as  stone.  His  face  grew  pale  at  first, 
and  then  gradually  assumed  the  livid  hue  of  death.  It  was 
only  then  that  the  muscles  of  his  hands  began  to  twitch, 
and  his  fingers  to  move  convulsively.  He  reached  forth 
his  right  hand  and  moved  it  slowly  toward  the  throat  of 
the  slanderer,  and  Timothy  Pollywog  sat  motionless  in  front 
of  the  Colonel,  for  he  seemed  to  be  spell-bound,  and  could 
not  move  from  his  seat,  upon  which  he  sat  still,  as  if  chained 
down  by  a  strong  and  heavy  chain. 

Colonel  Shelton  seized  the  slanderer  by  the  throat,  and 
clutched  his  wind-pipe  with  a  vice-like  grasp  ;  his  fingers 
never  clutched  any  tighter,  nor  did  they  relax  their  grasp 
a  single  instant  after  he  had  placed  his  hand  upon  the 
throat  of  his  victim,  whose  tongue  lolled  out  far  between 
his  decayed  tusks,  and  his  face  became  red,  and  then  blue, 
while  his  eyes  seemed  ready  to  start  from  their  sockets,  and 
to  leap,  in  very  spite,  into  the  face  of  the  avenger  of  poor 
Langdon's  honor — his  lost  son,  Langdon  !  dishonored  now 
by  a  foul  calumny  ! 

Whether  it  was  that  Colonel  Shelton  became  filled  with 
disgust  at  the  aspect  of  Timothy  Pollywog's  face  thus  hid- 
eously distorted,  or  that  the  name  of  Pollywog  suggested 
the  cold  and  repulsive  nature  of  the  frog,  we  can  not  say. 
The  effect,  however,  was  all  the  same  upon  the  old  man's 
mind,  whose  mood  had  changed  from  hatred  and  revenge 
into  contempt  and  utter  loathing.  He  withdrew  his  hand 
as  suddenly  from  the  throat  of  Timothy  Pollywog  as  a  child 
or  a  very  nervous  young  lady  would  from  the  accidental 
contact   of  a   cold-blooded   frog,  or   some   hideous   reptile. 


142  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  )    OR, 

Colonel  Shelton  had  risen  from  his  chair  to  his  feet,  and 
as  his  entire  being  became  pervaded  by  the  intensity  of  his 
passion,  his  form  became  erect  and  his  mien  commanding ; 
and  as  he  rose  up  higher  and  straightened  his  curved  back 
straighter,  Timothy  Pollywog  was  compelled  to  rise  up  also, 
until  he  stood  on  tip-toe,  not  by  his  own  consent,  but  as 
if  pulled  slowly  and  steadily  upward  upon  a  gallows.  It 
was  when  Colonel  Shelton  had  assumed  his  old  commanding: 
tight,  and  looked  himself  again,  that  he  withdrew  his  hand 
from  Timothy's  throat  so  suddenly  and  with  such  loathing; 
and  then  it  was  that  Timothy  Pollywog  fell  heavily  to  the 
floor,  like  a  stone  or  piece  of  furniture  thrown  clown  from  the 
Avail.  The  old  Colonel  did  not  stop  to  look  for  a  single 
moment  upon  the  apparently  lifeless  mass,  lying  like  a 
corpse  upon  the  floor,  but  mechanically  took  up  his  hat  and 
Avcnt  forth  from  the  room,  without  a  stick  in  his  hand,  and 
with  his  head  erect,  and  his  old  soldier-like  tread.  The 
power  of  passion,  which  dies  away  so  soon  in  some  per- 
sons of  weak  temperament,  in  his  strong  and  resolute  nature 
lasted  a  long  while,  and  would  give  him  strength  for  some 
time  to  come.  It  was  like  the  actual  cautery  or  red-hot 
iron  applied  to  the  comatose  and  dying  patient,  which  makes 
him  sometimes  leap  from  the  bed  and  stand  upon  his  feet 
even  in  the  agonies  of  death. 

When  Timothy  Pollywog  fell  to  the  floor  with  that  dull, 
heavy  sound,  as  of  a  dead  man  who  kas  been  held  up  for 
a  while  and  then  let  go,  Ella  Shelton,  who  heard  the  noise 
while  seated  in  her  chamber  engaged  in  some  sort  of  cm- 
broidery,  started  to  her  feet  in  alarm,  and  then  stood  tremb- 
ling for  several  instants,  powerless  to  move.  The  first  thought 
which  flashed  across  her  mind  was,  that  her  old  father  had 
fainted  and  fallen  from  his  arm-chair,  and  she  waited  with 
breathless  attention  for  a  few  seconds,  to  hear  Mr.  Pollywog 
call  for  assistance.  But  as  no  words  were  spoken,  and  she 
heard  the  firm  tread  of  a  man  going  out  of  the  door — a 
tread   so   much    like    her   father's  in  the   olden   time — she 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  143 

recovered  from  her  terror,  and  ran  toward  the  late  scene  of 
re u corm tor.  What  was  her  surprise,  therefore,  to  see  her 
father  going  down  the  steps  of  the  front  piazza  without  a 
stick  in  his  hand,  or  even  without  holding  on  to  the  ban- 
isters !  But  greater  still  was  her  surprise  and  dismay  when 
she  reached  the  door  of  the  Colonel's  library,  to  discover 
Timothy  Pollywog  stretched  at  full  length,  with  his  neck 
swollen,  and  his  face  livid,  and  his  tongue  still  protruding 
from  his  mouth.  She  did  not  shriek,  nor  scream  out,  nor 
faint,  as  some  young  ladies,  for  she  was  herself  a  heroine, 
and  the  daughter  of  a  brave  old  hero.  She  ran  to  the 
closet  and  got  a  vial  of  hartshorn,  and  from  her  bureau 
snatched  up  a  little  square  bottle  of  eau-de-colognc.  and  in 
doing  so  she  called  to  her  mother,  who  was  then  walking 

O  'CD 

in  the  vegetable  garden,  to  come  in  quickly.  Mrs.  Shelton 
knew,  from  the  tone  of  her  voice,  that  something  serious  and 
very  alarming  had  occurred,  and  love  imparted  to  her  limbs 
unusual  strength  and  activity,  for  she  feared  that  something 
serious  had  happened  to  her  husband,  "Perhaps,"  she 
thought,  as  she  ran  into  the  house,   "  he  has  had  a  fit  of 

apoplexy,  or,  perhaps,  he  is  " She  could  not  finish  the 

sentence  even  mentally,  but  repelled  the  thought  with  a 
shudder.     As  she  entered  the  room  she  inquired,  in  alarm : 

"What  is  the  matter  with  my  husband?" 

Ella  was  kneeling  down  by  the  side  of  the  prostrate  man, 
bathing  his  face  with  cologne,  holding  hartshorn  to  his 
nostrils,  and  alternately  chafing  his  hands  and  his  temples. 
Her  movements  were  all  very  rapid,  but  very  collected  and 
systematic.  Although  intently  engaged  in  her  endeavors  to 
resuscitate  Timothy  Pollywog,  she  was  not  so  much  absorbed 
as  not  to  hear  her  mother's  inquiry.  She  replied,  therefore, 
very  promptly : 

"  Be  calm,  dearest  mother ;  there  is  nothing  the  matter 
with  my  father,  for  I  saw  him  leave  the  house  a  few  mo- 
ments ago,  seeming  stronger  than  usual ;  but  there  is  a 
great  deal  the  matter  with  Mr.  Pollywog.      I  imagine   he 


144  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

must  have  insulted  my  father  very  grossly,  for  here  are  the 
prints  of  his  fingers  as  they  clutched  his  throat,  and  I  fear 
that  they  pressed  so  hard  as  to  strangle  him  beyond  all 
hope  of  recovery.  Do,  mother,  get  a  little  brandy  and 
water  and  a  spoon.  Make  haste,  mother,  or  it  will  be  too 
late — if,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh,  "he  is  not  dead  already." 

Mrs.  Shelton  did  not  wait  for  her  daughter's  request  to 
be  repeated,  for  her  sympathies  were  all  aroused  now  for 
the  unfortunate  man,  and  her  old-time  propensities  came 
back  strong  upon  her.  She  ran  to  the  closet,  which  was 
usually  left  open,  and  seldom,  if  ever,  locked,  at  least  in  the 
day  time,  and  brought  from  it  a  glass,  a  spoon,  and  a  decanter 
of  pure  old  Cognac  brandy,  such  as  was  used  in  those  days 
even  in  this  country,  but  which  sells  in  Paris  now  for  twenty 
and  thirty  dollars  per  gallon,  and  very  scarce  at  that  price 
even. 

When  she  returned  to  the  library,  Mr.  Pollywog  had 
sighed  a  deep  and  heavy  sigh,  produced  by  the  friction  and 
warmth  of  Ella's  hand  and  the  pungent  odor  of  the  harts- 
horn, which  she  held  continually  to  his  nose. 

"  Thank  God,"  exclaimed  Ella,  fervently,  "he  is  not  dead. 
Pray  God  that  he  may  recover  altogether,  for,  0  !  horrible 
would  it  be  if  the  miserable  wretch  should  die  by  my  father's 
hand,  and  in  my  father's  house  ! " 

Mrs.  Shelton  had  by  this  time  recovered  all  her  self- 
command,  and,  as  a  skillful  and  efficient  nurse,  aj)plied  her- 
self to  the  task  of  resuscitating  the  already  partially  resus- 
citated Mr.  follywpg.  She  poured  into  the  tumbler  a  good 
deal  of  brandy,  and  then  added  about  one-third  water — just 
enough  to  prevent  strangling;  to  which  she  added  a  few 
drops  of  hartshorn.  A  teaspoonful  of  this  mixture  she 
poured  down  the  throat  of  the  patient,  and  then  moistened 
his  tongue  with  a  wet  rag,  applied  constantly  to  it.  A  full 
hour  elapsed  before  Timothy  Pollywog,  under  this  judicious 
treatment,  was  enabled  to  close  his  swollen  eyes  voluntarily, 
and  then  open  them  again  ;  and  when  Mrs.  Shelton  discov- 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  145 

ered  that  the  swollen  condition  of  his  tongue  was  relieved, 
and  that  he  could  draw  it  back  into  his  mouth,  she  took 
away  the  wet  rag  which  she  had  applied  to  it. 

And  now,  for  the  first  time,  Mrs.  Shelton  remembered 
that  Colonel  Shelton  kept  a  lancet  in  his  secretary,  and  she 
rightly  conjectured  that  the  man  ought  to  he  bled.  The 
secretary  was  left  open,  and  the  keys  were  hanging  from  the 
door;  for  the  old  Colonel,  even  in  his  days  of  wealth  and 
prosperity,  was  never  suspicious  of  robbery,  and  had  but 
iVw  places  constantly  under  lock  and  key.  From  a  little 
drawer  Mrs.  Shelton  drew  out  a  sharp  lancet,  and  although 
she  had  never  in  her  life  bled  any  one  before,  her  heart 
was  nerved  up  to  the  duty  by  the  necessity  and  urgency  of 
the  case,  and  the  absence  of  any  one  capable  of  performing 
the  act  of  venesection.  It  is  true,  she  might  have  sent  for 
Old  Toney,  but  she  knew  that  he  was  some  distance  from 
the  house,  assisting  his  children  in  gathering  in  their  little 
cotton  crop  ;  and  she  was  afraid  to  run  the  risk  of  a  mo- 
ment's delay.  With  her  white  cambric  handkerchief,  there- 
fore, she  tied  the  arm  of  Mr.  Pollywog  above  the  elbow,  and, 
very  cautiously,  but  firmly,  as  she  had  seen  the  old  family 
physician  do,  she  made  a  full  and  free  incision  into  the 
median  vein.  The  operation  was  performed  secundum  artem, 
and  the  blood  spun  out  in  a  bold  stream,  black  as  tar  itself, 
into  a  basin  held  by  her  daughter  Ella.  There  were  no 
servants  called  in  as  yet,  and  the  work  was  done  silently  and 
effectually.  For,  as  the  blood  flowed  slowly,  at  first  in  black, 
thick  drops,  and  then  more  rapidly,  until  the  drops  became 
a  continuous  stream,  Timothy  Pollywog's  strength  grew 
stronger  and  stronger,  and,  by  the  time  the  bleeding  was 
completed,  he  was  able  to  rise  up  in  a  sitting  posture  upon 
the  floor.  Mr.-.  Shelton  then  wiped  the  blood  from  his  arm. 
and  secured  the  orifice  with  a  piece  of  cloth  and  a  band 
and  gave  liitn  the  remainder  of  the  brandy  and  liartrdiorn 
which  was  in  the  tmnldrr.  PollYWOg  Smacked  his  lips,  and 
thought  he  had  iicvcr  drank    better  brandy  in  his  life,  Bpf 


14G  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

even  half  so  good  ;  for  it  was  fourth  proof,  and  still  further 
strengthened  by  the  addition  of  the  aqua  ammonia. 

"  Much  obliged  to  you,  ma'am,  for  your  kindness,  but  I 
do  n't  deserve  it  at  all,  at  all.  The  old  Colonel  sarved  me 
right,  ma'am  ;  but  he  come  mighty  nigh  onto  fixin'  my  flint. 
I  remember  it  all  now.  I  can  sec  it  before  me  as  plain  as 
a  wision.  It 's  all  been  sent  on  me  as  a  judgment.  I  shall 
take  it  as  a  warning,  and  '  go  and  sin  no  more.'  " 

Mr.  Pollywog  recovered  completely  his  strength,  and  in  a 
little  while  afterward  was  enabled  to  leave  the  house.  He 
kept  his  word  faithfully,  and  never  more  wagged  his  tongue 
in  slanderous  tales  and  lying  insinuations.  The  hard  chok- 
ing which  Colonel  Shelton  gave  hiin  did  him  great  good ; 
for  it  cured  him  of  a  very  sinful  and  annoying  habit.  Like 
the  pollywog,  which  suddenly  drops  its  tail  and  leaps  from 
the  water  a  veritable  frog,  so,  also,  Mr.  Timothy  Pollywog 
was  suddenly  transformed  from  being  a  lying  rascal  and  a 
mischief-maker,  into  a  truthful  and  a  true  man.  His  regen- 
eration was  sudden  and  alarming,  for  it  was  like  one  being 
born  from  the  dead ;  but  the  signs  of  his  new  birth  and 
truly  wonderful  conversion  were  ever  afterward  apparent. 
Henceforth,  therefore,  should  he  ever  be  called  upon  the 
stage,  we  shall  drop  his  surname,  and  call  him  no  more 
Pollywog,  nor  even  Timothy  Pollywog,  but  simply  Timo- 
thy— plain,  honest  Timothy — who,  like  a  whipped  spaniel, 
will  revere,  to  his  dying  day,  the  memory  of  Colonel  Shelton, 
and  love  and  honor  his  wife  and  his  daughter,  through  whose 
instrumentality  he  was  brought  to  life  again,  and  of  whose 
constant  and  unremitting  efforts  he  could  say,  with  a  grate- 
ful heart,  "Whereas  I  was  dead,  I  am  alive  again,  and 
whereas  I  was  only  a  Pollywog,  I  am  now  an  honest  and  a 
truthful  man — no  longer  a  mischief-maker,  nor  a  busy-body 
in  other  men's  affairs.  Thank  God,  I  am  no  longer  a  '  Pol- 
lywog,' but  honest  Timothy.  And,  0  !  how  happy  !  what  a 
new  feeling  of  delight  I  experience  in  my  soul,  in  making 
others  happy  instead  of  making  them  miserable,  and  uncom- 
fortable, and  wretched,  as  I  used  to  do  !     Verily,  my  con- 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  147 

version  has  been  as  sudden,  and  almost  as  miraculous,  as 
that  of  the  apostle  Paul." 

Reader,  do  you  not,  in  your  heart,  wish  that  in  these  very 
different  days — these  "evil  times  upon  which  we  have  fallen " 
— there  was  a  brave  old  Colonel  Shclton,  with  the  strong 
hand  of  the  soldier,  to  choke  out  the  life  of  the  poilywogs 
who  are  wriggling  upon  the  surface  of  society,  and  making 
black  and  offensive  the  clear,  cool  waters  of  life?  to  trans- 
form them,  not  from  poilywogs  into  a  yet  more  loathsome 
reptile — the  toad;  but  into  honest,  truthful  Timothies.  Pray 
Q-od  that  the  Almighty  Hand  may  do  it;  for  the  Christian 
reader  would  rather  that  the  grace  of  God  should  do  it  than 
the  constraining  hand  of  a  mortal.  Then,  how  calm  and 
peaceful  shall  become  your  little  community,  now  disfigured 
by  scars,  and  made  unhappy  by  heart-burnings,  all  the  result 
of  talc-bearing  and  slander,  and  downright,  willful  lying. 
Pity,  we  say,  that  all  our  Poilywogs  couldn't  become  trans- 
formed into  honest,  truthful,  neighbor-like  Timothies,  such 
as  Timothy  afterward  became,  for  he  slandered  never  wore 
He  was  as  effectually  cured  by  the  choking  which  Colonel 
Shclton  gave  him  as  was  the  wicked  blacksmith  who  gave 
up  his  atheism,  burned  all  of  his  books  on  infidelity,  and 
acknowledged  that  "  the  Methodist  parson  had  mauled  and 
hammered  the  grace  of  God  into  his  unprincipled  soul." 
lie  was  a  powerful  man,  that  infidel  blacksmith,  who  wielded 
the  ponderous  fist  of  a  Vulcan,  lie  was  the  terror  of  the 
community,  and  no  one  dared  to  dispute  his  word,  or  gain- 
:  ay  his  authority — a  petty  tyrant,  who  held  his  Weaker 
neighbors  in  the  most  abject  bondage.  For  a  long  time  he 
Lad  driven  off  every  Methodist  preacher  who  had  attempted 
t"  ride  that  circuit.  There  was  a  church  not  very  far  off 
from  his  shop,  upon  which  he  kept  his  diabolical  eye.  like 
Cerberus  guarding  the  entrance  to  the  cave  which  led  down 
to  Tartarus  ;  and,  like  those  wicked  worshipers  of  the 

idols,   he  had  VOWed    to  whip  and    f<>  brat,   if  not    to  pi! 

death,  any  divine  who  should  possess  the  temerity-,  in  de- 


148  .  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

fiance  of  his  objections,  to  enter  the  sacred  portals  of  the 
temple  to  offer  up  sacrifice  and  kneel  to  the  "  God  of 
Daniel  and  the  holy  prophets." 

The  result  was,  that  for  several  years  past  this  little  church 
became  defunct,  and  was  suffered  to  go  to  decay,  for  the 
manifest  reason  that  there  was  no  preacher  in  the  confer- 
ence who  was  bold  enough,  or  who  felt  himself  physically 
caj)able  "  to  stand  fight"  with  the  bully  ;  for  he  must  first 
fight  "  a  regular  fist  fight,"  and  succeed  in  whipping  "  Old 
Vulcan"  before  that  would-be  worthy  would  give  him  per- 
mission to  enter  the  pulpit. 

At  last,  however,  there  was  one  man  found  at  the  General 
Conference  who  volunteered  to  go  upon  that  particular 
circuit,  and  to  preach  in  that  particular  church — feeling 
that  it  was  his  peculiar  mission  to  humble  this  "  Goliah  " 
who  thus  persistently  "  acfied  the  armies  of  Israel."  Like 
David,  with  his  "  little  sling"  and  "a  smooth  pebble,"  this 
man  of  God  rode  upon  the  circuit ;  and  as  he  approached 
the  blacksmith-shop,  he  came  leisurely  on,  singing  one  of 
those  good  old  Methodist  songs  which  he  so  much  delighted 
to  sing.  He  was  about  to  pass  the  shop,  when  Old  Vulcan 
came  forth,  cursing  and  swearing  at  a  furious  rate  ;  for  he 
was  already  very  indignant  that  the  preacher  should,  as  it 
seemed  to  him,  blow  his  trumpet  notes  of  defiance  in  his 
ear,  instead  of  skulking  by  in  silence  and  alarm  at  the  ring- 
ing of  his  anvil.  His  shirt  sleeves  were  rolled  up  above 
his  elbows  ;  and  his  grim-looking  face,  and  huge,  sledge- 
hammer fists  were  covered  with  the  soot  and  dust  of  the 
forge  and  the  anvil.  The  preacher  was* ordered  to  dismount 
and  take  a  thrashing,  or  give  up  his  determination  of  preach- 
ing upon  that  circuit. 

"  It  is  a  hard  case,  my  friend,"  said  the  preacher  ;  "  but 
I  must  obey  God  rather  than  the  devil." 

So  he  deliberately  tied  his  horse  to  the  nearest  tree,  and 
went  on  singing  the  hymn, 

"  How  firm  a  foundation,  ye  saints  of  the  Lord  ;"'•' 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    ANT)    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  149 

and  as  he  sung  he  poured  in  his  blows  "so  thick  and  fast" 
into  the  bully's  face  that  he  had  no  time  to  return  a  single 
one  of  them,  and  was  soon  utterly  discomfited.  At  last  the 
preacher  knocked  down  -Old  Vulcan,"  and  got  upon  him 
never  once  ceasing  his  song  throughout  the  fight  Vnlcan 
cried  out,  "Enough!  hold,  enough  !"  but  the  preacher  re- 
plied, "I  do  not  think  you  have  got  enough,"  and  went 
on  singing  as  before. 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  the  blacksmith ;  «  you  will  beat  me  to  death." 
'*  I  shall  not  beat  thee  to  death,  my  friend,"  said  the  par- 
son ;    <  but  it  is  my  desire  to  beat  the  grace  of  God  into 
thy  unprincipled   soul.     And   for    this   glorious   purpose   I 
shall  proceed  in  the  order  of  the  Christian  work,  and  the 
three  great  cardinal  principles  of  Methodism,  in  which   I 
do  most  firmly  believe,  and  to  which  it  is  necessary,  for  your 
salvation,  that  you  do  most  cordially  assent— I  mean  Con- 
viction,  Conversion,   and   Sanctification.      This  shall  be  the 
general  division-the  heads  of  a  discourse  which  I  design 
Uod  willing,  to  preach  on  next  Sabbath  two  weeks    at  this' 
church,  and  which  I  intend  that  you  shall  hear.     But   for 
the  present,   I  shall  proceed  only  with  the  application  of 
my  sermon,  thus  reversing  the  usual  order  of  pulpit  dis- 
courses :    Firstly,  then,  you  must  promise  to  abstain  from 
swearing  and  all  other  wicked  and  immoral  practices." 

To  the  very  first  proposition  the  blacksmith  indignantly 
objected,  swearing,  with  a  dreadful  oath,  that  «  he  was  a 
free  man-that  he  lived  in  a  free  country,  and  he  would 
therefore  curse  as  much  as  he  pleased." 
_    The  parson  made  no  other  reply  than  to  resume  his  sing- 
ing,  and  to  continue  the  thrashing— letting   fall   his  hard 
blows  upon  the  already  bruised  and  battered  face  of  the 
prostrate  bully  as  mercilessly  as  the  blacksmith  was  accus- 
tomed to  strike,  with  his  sledge-hammer,  the  face   of  his 
iron  anvil. 

'I  will  do  it!  I  will  do  it!"   cried   Vulcan.     "I   will 
promise  you  never  to  swear  again  as  long  as  I  live." 


150  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

"  Very  well,  my  friend,"  said  the  parson,  with  a  happy 
and  benignant  smile,  "  that  is  conviction.  Now,  to  take  the 
second  step,  and  proceed  from  one  degree  of  grace  to  an- 
other, you  must  promise  to  burn  up  all  your  infidel  books, 
of  which,  I  have  been  informed,  you  have  a  goodly  num- 
ber, and  henceforth  to  read  the  Bible,  a  copy  of  which  I 
shall  give  you." 

To  consent  to  this  surprising,  and,  to  the  mind  of  the  par- 
tially-humbled infidel,  tyrannical  condition,  seemed  an  utter 
impossibility.  What  would  men  say,  who  had  heard  him 
argue  so  acutely,  and  reason  so  learnedly,  against  the  Bible, 
and  in  defense  of  his  atheistic  sentiments  ?  0  !  no.  The 
parson  must  really  excuse  him.  He  would  promise  any- 
thing else  in  the  world.  He  was  willing  to  burn  up  his 
infidel  books,  but  to  read  the  Bible — never  ! 

In  vain  did  the  preacher  urge  and  persuade,  in  the  most 
earnest  tones,  while  seated  astraddle  of  his  prostrate  enemy, 
that  it  was  his  solemn  duty  to  read  God's  Holy  Word ;  and 
now,  that  he  was  under  conviction ,  that  he  should  not  stop 
there,  but  "  go  on  from  one  degree  of  perfection  to  another  " 
— to  "get  religion"  by  the  next  important  step,  which  was 
to  read  the  Bible.'''' 

"Can't  do  it,"  said  the  blacksmith. 

"  But  you  must  do  it,"  said  the  parson. 

"  But  I  won't  do  it,"  replied  the  blacksmith,  in  an  angry  tone. 

"  But  you  shall  do  it,"  said  the  parson. 

"  But  I  '11  be  d d  if  I  will  do  " 

Down  came  the  blows,  harder  and  faster  than  ever  before, 
and  the  strains  of  the  hymn  rose  louder  and  floated  higher 
through  the  still  air.  So  loud  was  the  holy  songster's  voice, 
and  so  near  stifling  was  the  blacksmith,  from  the  streams 
of  blood  which  flowed  from  his  wounds,  and  nearly  strangled 
him,  as  he  lay  upon  his  back,  that  his  before  stentorian 
voice,  grown  feeble  from  exhaustion,  as  grew  Caesar's  in  the 
act  of  drowning,  that  it  could  scarcely  be  heard  this  time 
crying  for  help,  and  saying : 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  151 

11  Enough  !  enough  !  I  will  do  it !  Anything  !  everything  ! 
only  don't  sing  that  song  any  more;  it  will  kill  me  out- 
right!" 

"  My  friend,  I  sincerely  rejoice  in  your  conversion,  and 
that  the  words  of  that  sacred  song  have  had  so  overpower- 
ing an  effect  upon  your  hitherto  hard  and  stony  heart," 
was  the  condoling  reply  of  the  preacher,  as  he  leaned  over 
the  now  thoroughly  cowed  and  humbled  bully,  whose  face 
was  literally  beat  to  a  jelly.  "  But  in  order  that  you  may 
reach  the  topmost  round  of  the  ladder,  and  proceed  to 
sanctification,  you  must  promise  that  as  soon  as  your  wounds 
have  healed,  which  will  be  in  about  two  weeks'  time,  you 
will  come  out  to  hear  me  preach  upon  the  subjects  of  Con- 
viction, Conversion,  and  Sanctification.  Will  you  promise  to 
come  out?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  humbled  blacksmith,  who  was  true 
to  his  word. 

There  had  been  no  witnesses  to  the  rencounter,  and  the 
secret  was  never  told  by  either  the  preacher  or  the  black- 
smith until  after  the  conversion  of  the  latter  ;  when,  upon 
relating  his  experience  to  the  church,  he  told  all  the  par- 
ticulars of  the  fight.  The  parson  was  present  at  the  black- 
smith's recital  of  his  Christian  experience,  and  the  manner 
in  which  it  was  first  brought  about,  by  which  he  was  first 
induced  to  burn  up  his  infidel  books,  and  then  to  read  the 
Holy  Bible.  Rising  up  in  the  assembly  with  his  usual  sedate 
but  earnest  countenance,  and  with  a  smile  of  happiness 
lighting  up  his  eye,  he  said  : 

"  Yes,  my  brethren  ;  the  brother  has  related  all  the  par- 
ticulars of  the  case  just  as  it  happened.  The  Lord  helped 
me,  and  I  did  it  alone  through  his  help.  I  mauled  the  (/race 
of  God  into  his  unprincipled  sold  /" 

Akin  to  the  conversion  of  the  infidel  blacksmith  was  that 
of  Mr.  Timothy  Pollywog,  the  reformed  slanderer. 


152  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 


CHAPTER  X. 

HEN  Colonel  Slielton  left  the  house,  the  reader  will 
recollect  that  he  went  away  without  a  stick  in  his 
&)  hand,  and  with  his  head  erect,  as  in  former  times. 
j(sW  The  stimulus  of  his  rencounter  with  Timothy  had 
imparted  to  his  nervous  and  muscular  system  an 
energy  and  a  power  which  did  not  desert  him  for  some 
considerable  time.  He  opened  the  little  garden  gate  and 
walked  leisurely  up  the  road.  He  had  been  gone  more 
than  an  hour ;  and  when  all  the  circumstances  related  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  last  chapter  had  transpired,  and  still 
he  did  not  come,  Mrs.  Shelton  and  her  daughter  became 
uneasy  concerning  his  protracted  absence  from  the  house. 
Ella  put  on  her  sun-bonnet  and  walked  anxiously  up  the 
road  ;  and  as  she  walked  on,  her  anxiety  became  greater  the 
further  she  went.  She  began  to  be  very  anxious,  indeed, 
and  had  walked  more  than  a  half-mile,  when  she  heard  a 
deep  groan  proceeding  from  the  bushes  on  the  left  hand 
side  of  the  public-road.  She  immediately  turned  fn  that 
direction,  and  saw  her  father  lying  in  the  shade  of  a  large 
tree,  with  his  head  leaning  against  the  trunk  of  an  old  oak, 
and  in  a  very  prostrate  and  exhausted  condition.  If  his 
passion  had  made  him  strong  for  a  while,  the  subsidence 
of  his  violent  feelings  had  left  him  very  weak.  He  had 
walked  more  than  a  mile  from  the  house,  and  was  returning 
homeward,  when  his  strength  gave  way,  and  he  had  crawled 
to  the  shade  of  the  tree.     He  had  been  thinking  of  his  son 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    TTTE     LAND-PIRATE.  153 

Langdon,  and  the  foul  slander  which  had  been  hurled  at 
his  memory,  when  he  gave  utterance  to  that  groan  which 
had  called  his  daughter  to  his  side. 

"My  father!"  said  Elln,  anxiously,  as  she  approached 
Colonel  Shelton. 

"  My  daughter  !  "  was  the  reply  of  her  father,  as  he  slowly 
rose  into  a  sitting  posture,  and  leaned  his  back  against  the 
tree. 

Ella  dropped  down  by  his  side,  and  seated  herself  upon 
the  grass  also. 

"I  have  been  very  anxious  about  you,  my  father.  I  am 
so  glad  I  have  found  you  at  last." 

Colonel  Shelton  drew  her  head  toward  him  and  kissed  her 
lips  affectionately. 

"Father,"  said  Ella,  placing  her  hand  upon  the  old  man's 
cheek  as  she  used  to  do  when  a  very  little  child;  "you  did 
wrong,  father,  to  walk  so  far,  and  weary  yourself  so  much." 

"  I  was  only  trying  my  old  limbs,  my  child,  to  see  if  they 
would  hold  out  in  a  very  long  journey  I  am  soon  to  take." 

"Whither  arc  you  going,  my  father?"  asked  Ella,  in 
almost  childish  surprise. 

"  I  am  soon— very  soon— to  travel  toward  <  that  bourne 
whence  no  traveler  returns.'  " 

"0,  father!  don't  talk  so.  It  will  kill  your  Ella  !  "  and 
she  leaned  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  and  wept  long  and 
bitterly. 

The  old  man  did  not  speak,  nor  attempt  to  interrupt  her 
weeping,  but  let  her  weep  on.  He  had  respect  for  her  sorrow, 
and,  in  his  heart,  pitied  the  loneliness  which  he  felt  would 
soon  come  upon  his  wife  and  his  daughter.  The  spectacle 
of  Ella's  grief  had  no  little  influence  upon  Colonel  Shelton, 
in  nerving  up  his  exhausted  energies. 

"Come,  my  daughter,"  said  he,  "let  us  return  home. 
With  the  aid  of  this  stick,  rough  and  uncouth  as  it  is,  I 

hope  to  be  able  to  reach  the  house,  and  then  " but  he 

did  not  finish  the  sentence. 
7* 


154  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

Ella  entreated  her  father  to  lean  heavily  upon  her  arm ; 
but  the  old  man  smiled  sadly  and  said,  "  No,"  that  the  weight 
of  his  arm  would  crush  down  one  so  fragile  as  his  daughter ; 
that  as  well  might  the  oak  lean  heavily  against  the  ivy  for 
support,  as  for  him  to  lean  heavily  upon  her. 

"  No,  no,  my  child  !  If  I  have  not  strength  to  walk,  you 
have  not  the  power  to  hold  me  up,  and  both  the  oak  and 
the  ivy  would  fall  together.  But  do  not  be  uneasy ;  for  I 
trust  that  I  shall   reach   the  house  in  safety,  at  least  by 

resting  a  few  times  on  the  way ;  and  then  " he  checked 

himself  again,  and  left  the  sentence  unfinished  a  second  time. 

By  resting  at  regular  intervals  of  every  four  or  five  minutes, 
Colonel  Shelton  at  length  succeeded  in  reaching  the  steps 
of  the  piazza,  where  he  sunk  down  at  last  completely  ex- 
hausted, and  utterly  unable  to  go  any  further.  Indeed,  it 
was  necessary  to  call  in  the  aid  of  Old  Toney  and  his  two 
sons  to  lift  the  old  gentleman  to  a  couch,  where  he  lay  for 
a  very  long  time  like  one  in  a  trance.  For  even  after  he 
had  recovered  from  the  partial  syncope  into  which  he  had 
fallen,  from  his  unwonted  exertion  and  excitement,  he  did 
not  sufficiently  recover  his  strength  to  speak,  or  even  to 
raise  his  hand,  or  move  a  single  muscle. 

That  night  Colonel  Shelton  slept  in  his  bed  very  quietly 
until  a  few  hours  before  day,  when  he  became  restless ;  but 
when  Mrs.  Shelton,  in  a  kind  voice,  inquired  if  he  was  in 
any  pain,  he  replied,  "No,"  and  then  she  knew  that  his 
mind  was  disturbed  by  anxiety  or  some  other  feeling.  As 
soon  as  the  day  had  dawned,  Colonel  Shelton  sent  for  Old 
Toney  to  take  a  note  which  he  requested  Mrs.  Shelton  to 
write  at  his  dictation.  She  sat  down  to  her  little  escritoir 
and  did  as  her  husband  desired ;  but  the  tears  were  falling 
fast  upon  the  paper  as  she  wrote.  The  letter  was  directed 
to  the  nearest  relative  of  Colonel  Shelton,  Mr.  Thomas  Shelton, 
who  has  been  already  casually  alluded  to.  It  conveyed  a 
simple  request  that  he  should  come  speedily  himself,  and 
bring  with  him  Mr.  Green    an  old  lawyer  who  had  pretty 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-riRATE.  155 

much  given  up  the  practice  of  the  law,  but  who  would  come 
gladly,  at  Colonel  Shelton's  bidding,  to  draw  up  properly 
the  will  of  an  old  friend. 

.  Early  in  the  afternoon  Mr.  Thomas  Shelton  arrived,  in 
company  with  Mr.  Green.  When  the  two  gentlemen  entered 
the  room,  with  Old  Toney  following  in  the  rear,  with  a  very 
mournful  expression  upon  his  countenance,  the  brave  old 
Colonel  raided  himself  upon  his  elbow,  and  resting  it  upon 
the  pillow,  thus  supported  his  head  upon  his  hand.  It  was 
a  posture  he  had  often  assumed  upon  the  eve  of  battle,  when 
in  the  hummocks  and  swamps  of  Florida  he  used  to  lie  down 
thus,  listening  to  the  war-cries  of  the  Indian  savages,  and 
meditating  upon  the  chances  and  the  horrors  of  war ;  and 
arranging  his  plans  of  attack  or  defense  against  the  foe. 
And  now  he  must  encounter  a  sterner,  grimmer  foe,  whom 
he  could  see  in  the  distance  galloping  rapidly  toward  him, 
seated  upon  his  pale  horse,  with  his  drawn  sword  in  his 
hand.  The  brave  old  Colonel  had  never  quailed  before  an 
enemy  ;  he  did  not  quail  now.  Death  had  no  terrors  for 
him.  He  had  silently  made  his  preparations  to  meet  his 
grim  enemy,  careering  and  vaulting  toward  him,  crowned 
with  the  dark  cloud  upon  his  brow.  Without  ostentation, 
and  all  unknown  to  others,  he  had  been  "  putting  his  house 
in  order,"  and  had  put  on  his  secret  armor,  as  a  coat-of-mail 
to  blunt  the  arrows  of  the  foe,  who  would  not  find  him 
unprepared.  He  knew  that  he  was  soon  to  fight  his  last 
battle  on  earth,  but  he  would  die  with  his  colors  in  his  hand. 
Reader,  the  colors  to  which  the  brave  old  Colonel  now 
clung,  was  a  snow-white  banner  upon  which  was  painted,  in 
bold  relief,  a  red  cross,  the  cross  of  Christ;  and  just  above 
the  cross  were  inscribed  the  letters,  "  I.  H.  S  H — "  Jesus 
Salvator  Hominum,"  or,  "  Jesus  the  Savior  of  Men."  Christ 
was  now  his  last  hope  and  refuge — his  forlorn  hope;  and 
through  him  he  would  conquer  the  grini  enemy  Death.  In 
Him  only  did  he  trust,  now  that  his  old  walls  were  so  battered 
and  broken,  and  the  fortress  was  tumbling  down.     In  Christ 


156  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

only  did  he  hope  to  become  immortal,  and  though  covered 
with  the  dust  of  ages,  and  with  the  sweat  and  the  mold 
of  death,  to  rise  up  from  the  contest  at  last,  a  conqueror 
over  death  and  the  grave. 

It  brings  sad  reflections,  when  we  hear  that  an  old  man 
has  made  his  will,  for  we  are  apt  to  think  that  he  feels  death 
creeping  upon  him  as  his  bones  become  drier  and  drier,  and 
his  old  hinges  become  more  rusty,  and  his  joints  are  stiffen- 
ing with  age  and  its  infirmities.  We  are  apt  to  be  startled 
amid  out  daily  avocations,  and  with  the  busy  hum  of  life 
around  us,  just  as  we  are  startled  when  we  hear  the  cracking 
of  a  gnarled  old  oak,  whose  trunk  is  decayed,  and  whose  lofty 
and  venerable  boughs  have  been  blown  too  rudely  and  bent 
too  low  by  the  blast  of  a  tornado.  We  look  with  regret  to 
see  the  tree  fall  whose  cracking  has  arrested  our  attention  ; 
and  we  look  with  greater  regret  still,  and  more  painful 
anticipation,  to  see  the  old  man  die. 

When  the  will  was  drawn  up,  and  the  signature  had  been 
affixed,  with  as  firm  and  as  steady  a  hand  as  he  had  ever 
signed  a  document,  the  old  Colonel  sunk  back  upon  his  bed, 
and  said,  in  a  low,  murmuring  voice,  "Now,  Langdon,  my 
son,  we  shall  soon  embrace  each  other  in  the  spirit-land  ! 
May  God  give  me  strength  for  the  journey." 

Not  long  afterward,  the  family  were  all  called  together, 
by  the  request  of  the  dying  man ;  for,  although  the  usual 
signs  of  death  were  absent,  the  old  man  said  that  he  was 
not  only  ready  to  depart,  but  that,  in  reality,  he  would  soon 
be  with  Christ,  "to  see  him  as  he  is."  One  by  one  they 
came  in;  the  whites  and  the  blacks  also.  To  each  and 
every  one  he  gave  his  hand  and  his  blessing.  Even  little 
Fetie,  the  blind  girl,  was  there  ;  and,  although  she  could  not 
see,  she  could  feel  his  hand  laid  gently  upon  her  head ;  and 
through  her  sobs  she  heard  him  say  : 

"  I  have  listened  to  your  little  songs,  my  child,  when  you 
knew  it  not.  I  not  only  Kike,  but  I  love  that  little  song  of 
yours  which  talks  of  the  flowers,  and  the  sun  and  moon,  and 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.*  157 

stars  also,  because  it  is  the  voice  not  only  of  the  harp  but 
of  the  heart  also — 

"  '  Where  Jesus  reigns  the  hliud— the  blind  shall  see.' 

"  Yes,  my  child,  in  heaven  you  shall  be  blind  no  longer." 

During  this  scene,  Old  Toney  had  been  standing  in  front 
of  the 'fire-place,  with  his  hand  resting  against  the  mantle- 
piece.  Involuntarily  a  heavy  groan  escaped  him,  and  just 
then  he  heard  his  name  called  in  distinct  tones  by  his  old 
master ;  and  Old  Toney  was  by  the  bedside  in  a  moment. 

"Old  Toney,"  said  the  Colonel,  as  he  grasped  the  hand 
of  his  faithful  slave,  and  pressed  it,  for  the  last  time,  affec- 
tionately in  his,  "we  arc  going  to  part  company,  old  man, 
for  a  while.  One  of  us  'is  taken,  and  the  other  left.'  We 
have  fought  side  by  side  in  many  a  hard-won  contest,  but 
in  this,  my  last  battle,  I  must  meet  the  shock  single-handed 
and  alone;  and  the  day  will  come,  old  man,  when  you  must 
do  likewise.  I  hope  and  trust  that  you  are  a  Christian 
warrior,  and  that  death  will  not  find  you  sleeping  upon 
your  post.  Farewell,  old  friend ;  I  leave  my  wife  and  chil- 
dren in  your  care.  Be  a  friend  of  my  wife,  as  you  have 
been  a  friend  and  faithful  servant  to  me.  Watch  over  my 
child,  and  be  her  constant  guardian,  as  you  have  watched 
over  me  often  when  sleeping  unguarded  by  any  other  sen- 
tinel upon  the  tented  field." 

Old  Toney's  only  response  was  a  single,  deep,  sepulchral 
groan,  which  sounded  as  if  it  came  way  down  from  the  very 
lowest,  most  unfathomable  depths  of  his  soul.  Save  this  one 
groan,  his  grief  seemed  dumb,  or  was  too  great  for  words. 
He  would  have  left  the  room  and  fled  into  the  woods,  but 
he  could  not  move,  and  seemed  as  if  chained  down  to  the 
spot.  He  felt  that  his  arm  was  powerless  now  to  strike 
down  the  tomahawk  of  death,  and  he  must  see  his  master 
die  without  being  able  to  arrest  the  hand  which  laid  him 
low.  Just  then,  0!  how  gladly  he  would  have  laid  down 
his  own  life,  to  prolong  the  days  of  him  he  loved  so  well ! 


158  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

But,  alas,  the  Conqueror's  hour  had  come ;  for  there  is  a 
time  appointed  for  every  man  to  die.  And  even  to  those 
who  are  left  behind,  the  "days  are  few  and  full  of  trouble." 

Mrs.  Shelton  and  her  daughter  were  standing  on  either 
side  of  the  beloved  patient,  who  now  held  out  to  them  both 
his  hands  in  silence,  to  bid  them  a  simultaneous  and  last 
adieu.  He  had  already  given  an  affectionate  farewell  and  a 
blessing  to  each  and  every  of  his  servants,  and  now  that  his 
voice  had  failed  him — left  him  as  he  spoke  his  last  words  and 
gave  his  last  charge  to  Old  Toney — all  that  he  could  do  was 
to  place  his  hands  in  the  hands  of  those  he  loved  best  and 
last  on  earth.  He  looked  upon  his  wife,  and  then  upon  his 
daughter,  and  then  again,  for  the  last  time,  upon  the  dear 
partner  of  his  bosom.  It  was  his  last  earthward  look ;  for 
a  few  moments  afterward  he  looked  upward  and  turned  his 
steady  gaze  heavenward.  Heaven  now  seemed  to  contain 
the  most  powerful  magnet  over  his  disenthralled  spirit. 
The  Mohammedan  turns  his  eyes  toward  Mecca,  and  the  Jew 
toward  Jerusalem  ;  but  the  Christian  looks  heavenward,  and 
puts  his  trust  in  Christ  alone.  This  seemed  now  to  be  the 
veteran  soldier's  trust,  for  there  was  a  radiant  smile  upon 
his  lips,  and  his  eyes  never  blenched  at  the  prospect  of 
death,  which  came  stealing  slowly  over  him,  benumbing 
first  his  lower  extremities,  and  creeping  upward,  with  stealthy 
movement,  to  paralyze,  last  of  all,  his  slowly-throbbing  heart. 

But  though  his  heart  beat  slow,  its  pulsations  were  all 
full  and  strong.  The  family  physician  had  arrived  but  a 
few  moments  before.  He  had  been  sent  for  at  an  early 
period  by  Mrs.  Shelton ;  and,  although  he  came  too  late  to 
do  any  good  to  the  patient,  he  was  still  a  great  comfort  to 
the  distressed  family.  The  fingers  of  his  left  hand  were 
now  upon  the  dying  man's  wrist,  and  in  his  right  he  held 
an  old-fashioned  gold  watch.  He  was  counting  to  himself 
the  slow  and  regular  pulsations  of  the  radial  artery,  and 
wondering,  in  his  own  mind,  at  their  singular  slowness  and 
regularity,  so  unusual  in  other  persons  when  they  are  dying. 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  159 

"The  heart  has  ceased  to  beat,"  said  the  physician,  but 
he  did  not  remove  his  fingers  from  the  Colonel's  wrist. 

Just  then,  when  the  heart  had  ceased  to  beat  its  last 
death-stroke,  and  when  the  intelligent  physician  declared 
that  never  another  pulsation  would  be  given,  the  old  Colonel 
closed  his  eyes  by  a  voluntary  effort,  and  in  one  deep  ex- 
piration his  life  seemed  to  have  gone  out  in  a  moment.  So 
deep  and  singular  was  this  expiration,  that  his  chest  seemed 
drawn  down  and  his  abdomen  flattened  by  the  sudden  con- 
traction of  the  pectoral  and  abdominal  muscles  ;  and  the  air 
rushed  from  his  throat  with  a  fluttering,  rustling  noise,  as 
though  the  spirit  had  passed  out  that  way. 

Up  to  this  time,  his  eyes  and  his  mouth  were  open,  as  is 
W usually  the  case  with  the  dying.  But  when  this  most  sin- 
gular event  happened,  instead  of  remaining  open,  as  is  com- 
mon with  the  dead,  his  eyes  closed  and  his  mouth  became 
shut,  as  if  by  a  voluntary  and  conscious  effort. 

"He  is  dead,"  said  the  physician  a  second  time,  but  he 
still  kept  his  fingers  upon  the  wrist  of  Colonel  Shelton's 
corpse. 

When  Mrs.  Shelton  heard  these  words,  which,  though 
spoken  in  a  whisper,  sounded  to  her  as  the  loudest  knell 
ever  pealed  in  the  ears  of  a  mortal — for,  in  thunder  tones, 
those  dreadful  words  had  told  her  how  forlorn  and  discon- 
solate a  widow  she  was — then  Mrs.  Shelton  could  restrain 
herself  no  longer,  and,  uttering  a  single  loud  and  piercing 
shriek,  she  threw  herself  upon  the  dead  body  of  her  hus- 
band and  fainted  away.  Then  it  was,  that  the  strangest 
thing  in  nature  occurred ;  for  when  has  anything  happened 
like  it  before? 

The  physician  declared — and  we  know  that  his  testimony 
is  true — that  the  heart  had  ceased  to  beat  and  the  lungs  to 
act  for  at  least  a  minute  or  more,  and  that  they  never  after- 
ward resumed,  their  lost  functions.  Colonel  Shelton  was, 
therefore,  no  longer  a  living  soul,  but,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  a  lifeless  corpse.     But,  strange  to  say,  after  all  the 


160  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

phenomena  of  life  were  no  longer  apparent,  and  just  as  Mrs. 
Shelton  had  uttered  that  piercing  shriek,  and  flung  herself 
in  her  despair  upon  the  dead  body  of  her  husband,  Colonel 
Shelton  opened  his  eyes  again  and  looked  upon  his  wife, 
then  smiled  mournfully  a  smile  of  pitying  love,  and  closed 
his  eyes  again.  The  smile  did  not  fade  away,  but  rested 
upon  his  lips  still,  and  lighted  up  his  countenance,  thus 
robbing  death  of  its  grim  and  terrible  aspect. 

Just  here  let  me  ask  the  psychologist — let  me  inquire  of 
the  most  learned  physiologist — Can  the  precise  moment  be 
ascertained  when  the  soul  leaves  the  body  ?  Does  the  spirit 
quit  its  clay  tenement  immediately,  or  does  it  wait  until 
there  are  unmistakable  signs  of  decay?  In  Colonel  Shel- 
ton's  case,  had  the  spirit  indeed  left  the  body,  and  did  it 
return  for  a  single  moment  only  to  look  with  its  old  eyes 
of  affection  upon  his  wife,  and  wave,  with  a  smile,  its  last 
jidicu  to  the  loved  one  whom  it  left  behind  overwhelmed 
with  sorrow  ? 

We  are  ourselves  unable  to  solve  the  mystery;  but  we 
know  that  he  did  smile  upon  his  wife  as  she  lay  inanimate 
upon  his  cold  and  motionless  form,  after  the  physician 
exclaimed  "He  is  dead."  The  by-standers  certainly  con- 
sidered him  dead,  for  there  was  never  a  sigh  uttered,  nor  the 
twitching  of  a  single  muscle,  nor  the  throb  of  an  artery. 
He  teas  dead!  dead  so  far  as  physical,  if  not  psychological 
life,  was  concerned. 

It  is  a  case  interesting  alike  to  the  psychologist  and 
physiologist,  and  one  which  shows  how  far  the  deathless 
spirit  may  exert  an  influence  over  inanimate  matter.  It 
proves,  at  least,  that  the  soul  does  not  quit  the  body  as 
soon  as  some  theorists  have  supposed.  A  Romanist  would 
sav — an(i  in  truth  a  Romanist  did  say — that  had  Colonel 
Shelton  died  in  the  faith  of  the  Catholic  Church,  he  would 
have  been  canonized  and  enrolled  among  their  saints;  that  it 
was  a  miracle  which  he  himself  had  wrought  upon  his  own 
body  after  death. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  161 

When  Colonel  Shelton  breathed  his  last,  or  rather  when 
the  family  physician  said  "He  is  dead,"  the  clock  struck 
twelve— twelve   o'clock   at  night— that   cold    night    of  the 
10th  of  December.     He  had  been  dying,  indeed,  for  several 
days,  even  while  moving  about  upon  his  feet,  but  no  one 
knew  it,  nor  even  suspected  so  sad  a  casualty  ;  dying  from 
the  slow  but  certain  power  of  marasmus,  or  paralysis  of  the 
heart,  or,  perhaps,  both  combined.     But  he  did  not  begin 
to  die  visibly,  and,  to  the  perceptions  of  others,  there  were 
no   manifest  symptoms   of  death   until  he  had   signed   his 
signature,  with  a  fair  hand,  and  had  set  his  seal  to  his  last 
will  and  testament,     When  this,  his  last  work,  was  accom- 
plished, it  was  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  sun 
had  set,  or  was  just  setting  in  the  West.     It  was  when  the 
last  rays  of  the  sun  glanced  backward  upon  our  hemisphere, 
as  if  in  regret  to  leave  in  darkness  a  world  it  had  shone 
upon,  that  Colonel  Shelton's  sun  also  began  to  decline,  and 
his  life  to  die  out,  so  that  others  could   see   his   sun  was 
beginning  to  set  also. 

Mr.  Thomas  Shelton  went  to  the  center-table  and  wrote 
in  the  old  family  Bible,  just  under  the  place  where  Colonel 
Shelton  himself  had  recorded  the  first  death  in  his  im- 
mediate family :  "  Departed  this  life,  at  twelve  o'clock,  on 
the  night  of  the  10th  of  December,  1825,  Colonel  James 
Shelton,  in  the  sixty-third  year  of  his  age.  He  was  a  gal- 
lant soldier,  a  faithful  friend,  a  loving  and  a  devoted  husband 
and  father,  a  kind  and  indulgent  master,  a  forgiving  and  a 
noble  enemy,  and  an  humble  Christian;  he  fought  life's 
battles  well,  and  he  sleeps  calmly  after  its  storms  and  tem- 
pests are  over." 

Just  above  his  own  obituary,  Colonel  Shelton  had  written  : 
"  My  poor  boy  !  Would  to  God  that  I  could  find  his  corpse, 
that  I  might  first  give  it  decent  bnrial,  and  then  lie  down 
by  the  side  of  my  murdered  son,  poor  Langdon  !  He  left 
his  home  flushed  with  health,  and  full  of  manly  hopes  and 
promises.      Mr.  McPherson  writes  me   that   he  was   never 


162  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

taken  so  much  with  a  young  man  before,  and  that  when  he 
left  his  house  that  afternoon,  his  prayers  went  after  him 
that  he  might  one  day  become  not  only  the  pride  of  his 
State,  but  the  glory  of  his  country.  But  he  has  been  cut 
down  in  his  prime,  and  has  fallen  a  victim  to  the  bandit's 
lust  for  gold!  Who  is  the  murderer?  God  only  knows; 
and  (fod  shall  one  day  bring  him  to  judgment  for  his 
crime.'' 

Mr.  Thomas  Shclton  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  old 
family  Bible,  and  he  read  upon  the  margin  many  shrewd 
comments  which  even  able  theologians  would  have  acknowl- 
edged as  the  clearest  expositions  then  known  of  certain  sup- 
posed mysterious  passages  of  Scripture.  But  that  which 
attracted  the  reader's  attention  most,  and  affected  him  deeply, 
was  the  writing  he  saw  opposite  the  eighty-third  Psalm. 
It  was  dated  the  "  10th  of  November,  1824,"  and  had,  there- 
fore, been  written  late  at  night,  after  all  his  guests  had 
retired  to  bed  on  the  night  of  that  memorable  day — the  day 
of  the  hunt — and  after  he  had  made  arrangements  by  which 
he  effected  the  speedy  sale  of  all  his  large  property.  Strip- 
ped of  everything,  he  could,  like  Job  of  olden  time,  exclaim, 
"  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him,"  for  just  here 
the  words  in  print  were  reiterated  in  the  Colonel's  own 
handwriting:  "The  Lord  is  my  shepherd;  I  shall  not  want. 
No  !  never."  Mr.  Shelton  was  not  a  Christian,  but  he  closed 
the  book  reverently,  and  with  his  elbows  upon  the  table, 
rested  his  head  upon  his  hands. 

"Brave  old  man!"  said  he  aloud.  "This  then  was  his 
trust;  it  was  this  that  made  him  brave  in  battle,  but  braver 
still  under  the  heavy  pressure  which  he  must  have  felt,  and 
which  must  have  galled  his  sensitive  spirit — the  galling 
yoke  of  poverty  !  Who,  but  a  Christian,  can  come  down 
from  the  hights  of  honor  and  of  wealth,  whether  by  his 
own  misstep  or  the  misconduct  of  another,  to  tread  the 
gloomy  vale  of  poverty,  and  under  all  his  trials  and  tribula- 
tions, and  losses  and  crosses,  say,  with  a  cheerful  heart, 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  163 

even  write  it  in  a  book,  'The  Lord  is  my  shepherd;  I  shall 
not  want ! '  Brave  old  man  !  lie  has  italicised  the  possessive 
adjective  pronoun  'wy,'  to  show  that  he  had  appropriated 
the  good  Lord  to  himself,  and  made  him  become  his  shepherd. 
With  such  sentiments  as  my  honored  relative  entertained,  it 
is  a  wonder  he  did  not  attach  himself  to  some  Christian 
society.  But  when  I  come  to  reflect  upon  his  case,  I  do 
not  wonder  either.  He  was  an  Episcopalian  by  birth,  and 
there  was  no  church  of  that  persuasion  nearer  than  twenty- 
five  miles.  The  churches  nearest  him  were  cither  hard- 
shells  or  ranting  Methodists.  Colonel  SheltOn  stood  alone 
in  sublime  grandeur  in  advance  of  the  times  and  the  commu- 
nity in  which  he  lived.  He  was,  it  is  true,  out  of  the  pale 
of  the  visible  Church  ;  but  he  died  none  the  less  a  Christian, 
and  a  member  of  the  Church  in  heaven.  Would  God  that 
I  may  die  as  he  has  died  !     RequieeccU  in  pace." 

Perhaps,  had  the  Colonel  lived  in  the  present  day  in  that 
same  community,  which  has  advanced  in  knowledge  and 
refinement,  and  where  there  arc  now  no  hardshells  or  rant- 
ing Methodists,  but  intelligent,  missionary  Baptists  and 
pious  Methodists,  he  might  have  been  one  or  the  other. 
We  know  not;  but  judging  from  the  manner  of  his  death, 
we  believe  that  he  was  an  humble  Christian,  as  he  was  a 
brave  warrior. 


164 


OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 


CHAPTER   XL 


f1  T  was  not  until  the  third  day  alter  his  (loath  that  the 
burial   of  Colonel  Shelton  took  place;  for  Mrs.  Shcl- 
ton  not  only  wished  to  give  his  old  servants  and  numer- 
ous friends  an  opportunity  of  attending  the  funeral  of 
one   who    had    been   so   widely   known   and   universally 
beloved,  but  she  also  earnestly  desired  that  the  same  clergy- 
man  who  had  performed   their  marriage   ceremony  should 
now  officiate  upon  this  mournful  occasion.     It  was  n< 
sary,  therefore,  to  send  ;i  messenger,  post-haste,  with  a  letter 

to  the  city,  where  lived  the  godly  man.  who  Could  read  the 
service  for  the  burial  of  the  dead  as  few  men  then  or  now 
could  read  it. 

All  this  while  the  corpse  of  the  distinguished  man  lay 
in  state  in  its  black  coffin,  covered  with  black  velvet,  and 
resting  upon  two  chairs  in  the  library;  and  thither  repaired 
the  numerous  friends  of  the  deceased,  who  gathered  from 
every  quarter  to  look  for  the  last  time  upon  the  remains 
of  the  departed  hero.  And  even  strangers  were  there,  to 
do  honor  to  one  so  universally  beloved  and  respected.  Her- 
bert himself  had  opportunely  arrived,  although  he  had  been 
unapprised  of  the  sad  event  before  his  departure  from  the 
city  of  Charleston.  His  presence  was  a  great  comfort  to 
the  family,  and  especially  to  Ella  ;  for  upon  his  manly  bosom 
she  could  confidingly  pillow  her  sorrows,  and  receive  strength 
from  his  sympathy  and  love. 

There  was  lamentation  and  mourning  in  that  now  desolate 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    TFIE    LAND-PIRATE.  165 

house,  and  there  was  need  of  all  the  sympathy  and  all  the 
love  to  stay  the  sinking  spirits  of  the  bercaycd  ones,  whose 
very  hearts  were  hang  with  mourning.  The  outward  aspect 
of  things  indicated  the  sorrows  and  the  woes  within.  Kind 
hands  and  considerate  hearts  had  hung  the  very  walls  with 
black  drapery,  and  covered  the  antique  furniture  with  crape. 
The  curtains  were  looped  with  black  crape,  and  the  very 
harp  itself  was  dressed  in  mourning. 

Herbert  and  Ella  were  seated  upon  the  sofa  opposite  the 
harp.      They  sat  motionless,  with  clasped  hands  and  mourn- 
ing hearts,  when  Fetic  came  into  the  room.     She  knew  not 
that  the  lovers  were  in  the  parlor,  and  closed   the  parlor 
door  after  her  entrance  into  the  chamber.      Ella  saw  by  the 
expression  of  her  countenance  and  the  peculiar  luster  of 
her  eye,  through  which  her  soul  seemed  to  be  shining,  that 
the  spirit  of  poetry  was  upon  her,  and  that  her  genius,  so 
to  speak,  had  relighted  its  torch  at  the  funeral  pile  of  the 
veteran  warrior.     Fetie's  was  a   genius    of  native   growth, 
and,  consequently,  was  governed  by  no  conventional  rules. 
A  prim  old  maid,  or  the  devoted  slave  of  fashion,  would 
have  been  horrified  at  the  sound  of  music  in  the  house  of 
mourning  and  death.     But  Ella  Shelton  and  Edgar   Her- 
bert were  just  in  that  frame  of  mind  when  something  soft 
and  low — something  like   "  the   wailing   of  the  harp,"  or, 
rather,  like  "  the  sighing  of  the  harp" — would  relieve  their 
spirits,  overburdened  with  sorrow.     They  sat  still,  therefore, 
and,  with  breathless  expectation,  watched  all  the  motions 
of  the  blind  girl.     Fetie  went  up  to  the  harp,  and  started 
and  trembled  when  she  touched  the  stiff  crape  with  which 
the  gilt  frame  was  wound.     She  stood  a  moment  in  silence, 
and  turned  her  eyes  downward,  as  if  looking  upon  the  crape 
which  she  could  not  see,  but  whose  touch  so  forcibly  re- 
called the  memory  of  the    dead  warrior,  whose    cold    but 
friendly  hand  seemed  still  pressing  upon  her  head,  that  she 
fancied  she  could  feel  its  pressure  still.     The   tears  rolled 
down  her  cheeks  ;  and,  with  a  tremulous  voice,  she  breathed 


166  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

rather  than  sung  the  following  tribute  of  love  to  the  veteran 
who  was  lying  stiffened  in  death  in  the  adjoining  room  : 

Another  veteran  warrior's  dead. 
Another  captain's  race  is  nm 
Another  spirit 's  upward  fled, 

And  set  another  glorious  sun. 
Like  that  good  patriarch  of  old- 
Like  Jacob,  propped  up  in  his  bed- 
So  also  he  his  end  foretold, 
Then  soon  was  numbered  with  the  dead. 

His  race  was  bravely,  nobly  run  ; 
Ho  fought  life's  battles  long  and  well ; 

With  harness  buckled  firmly  on— 
Witli  suuru  iii  hand,  he  bravely  fell. 

Then  saw  his  friends,  who  gathered  round 
As  death,  so  grim  and  stark,  drew  nigh  ; 

They  saw  his  smile,  but  heard  no  groan- 
No  keen  regrets,  nor  painful  sigh. 

He  met  the  foe  with  smiling  eye, 

But  no  bravado  spirit  there  ; 
Through  faith  his  hopes  were  all  on  high— 

In  Christ,  his  trust,  without  a  fear. 
Now  let  God's  Holy  Word  be  read, 

Let  one  prayer  more— the  last— bo  given, 
Make  haste  !     Nay,  nay  !     Too  late  !  he  's  dead  ! 

He  's  ta'en  his  upward  flight  for  heaven. 

Farewell,  brave  warrior !  though  dead 

The  pressure  of  thy  hand  I  feel 
Distinct  and  plain  upon  my  head, 

Still  warm  as  life,  though  cold  as  steel. 
Go,  try  the  glories  of  that  world 

Where  war's  alarums  never  come 
Where  hostile  banners  all  are  furled, 

And  never  's  heard  the  beat  of  drum. 

"Cp,  soldier !  up  !  and  higher  rise  ! 

Away  from  bloody  contests  run  ; 
The  spirit-land  beyond  the  skies 

Has  other  victories  to  be  won. 
There,  a  crown  of  glory  shall  be  thine, 

A  star-wreath  placed  upon  thy  brow  ; 
And  there  you'll  drink  the  heaven-made  wine, 

And  weep  no  more  as  we  are  weeping  now. 

She  ceased  her  song,  and  stood  weeping  for  some   mo- 
ments, when  she  heard  Ella's  sighs  re-echoed  by  the  sighs 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  167 

of  her  lover  ;  she  seemed  very  much  confused,  and  sought 
to  leave  the  room  ;  but  Herbert  went  up  to  her,  and,  taking 
her  kindly  by  the  hand,  led  her  to  the  sofa,  upon  which 
he  had  left  Ella  weeping  the  silent  tears  of  gratitude  and 
love.  Herbert  seated  her  very  gently  and  carefully  upon 
the  sofa,  as  he  would  a  little  child,  and  then  sat  down  be- 
tween her  and  Ella.  He  passed  his  arms  around  the  waist  of 
both,  and  felt  very  happy.  Neither  Ella  nor  Fetie  moved 
nor  shrunk  from  this  liberty,  as  they  would  have  done,  per- 
haps,  at  another  time.  The  one  leaned  upon  him  now,  in 
her  loneliness  and  distress,  as  her  only  manly  support ;  the 
other  loved  him  as  the  friend  of  her  best  friend,  who  had 
first  awoke  the  fires  of  genius  within  her,  which  otherwise 
might  have  lain  dormant  forever,  or  become  extinguished 
by  the  cold  embers  of  indifference,  or  the  want  of  recipro- 
cal feelings. 

Thus  Ella  Shelton,  the  affianced  bride  of  Edgar  Herbert, 
sat  by  the  side  of  her  lover,  whose  left  arm  was  around 
her,  while  his  right  encircled  the  waist  of  the  blind  girl. 
But  the  heart  of  Ella  Shelton  was  pained  by.no  pangs  of 
jealousy.  If  her  love  was  almost  idolatrous,  it  was  not 
groveling  and  low.  A  high-born  maiden,  her  love  was  high- 
born also  ;  and  her  soul  as  lofty  as  the  source  from  which 
she  had  sprung. 

But  Herbert,  himself  a  gentleman,  and  used  to  all  the 
refinements  of  life,  although  possessing  an  affectionate  dis- 
position, would  not,  perhaps,  have  taken  this  liberty  with 
the  confiding  maidens  if  placed  under  any  other  than  the 
present  painful  circumstances.  But  death  is  a  grand  levelcr 
of  forms  and  ceremonies  ;  and  the  stormy  winds  of  advers- 
ity will  scathe  the  frost-work,  and  break  to  pieces  the  ice- 
bergs of  etiquette  and  conventional  stiffness.  There  was 
death  and  sorrow  in  the  house  ;  and  there  was  true  love  and 
manly  honor  in  the  heart  of  Mr.  Herbert. 

While  this  affectionate  trio  of  youthful  persons  were  thus 
seated  in  close  and  friendly  proximity,  a  sudden  noise,  as 


168  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

of  a  dead  weight  falling  upon  the  floor  of  the  library,  caused 
them  all  to  start  to  their  feet  in  consternation  and  alarm. 
It  was  early  in  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  and  no  one 
had  yet  come  from  a  distance  to  attend  the  funeral  of  Col- 
onel Shelton,  and  Herbert  conjectured  that  the  corpse  might 
have  been  tumbled  to  the  floor  by  the  old  Colonel's  dog, 
who  was,  perhaps,  seeking  to  win  a  last  smile  and  a  last 
friendly  recognition  from  his  master.  Supposing  this  to  be, 
in  reality,  the  case,  he  urged  Ella  to  remain  where  she  was, 
that  he  might  himself  go  and  see  what  had  happened.  To 
this  Ella  readily  consented  ;  for,  thinking  as  Herbert  did, 
she  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  and  ultimately  had  to 
sit  down  upon  the  sofa — trembling  from  that  kind  of  shocked 
feeling  which  we  all  have  when  the  corpse  of  one  we  love 
has  been  handled  too  rudely — as  if  a  corpse  had  any  more 
feeling.  But  such  is  our  nature,  that  we  shrink  and  tremble 
even  when  we  hear  the  clods  fall  too  hard  upon  the  coffin. 
But  if  the  corpse  itself  be  handled  never  so  lightly,  we  are 
afraid  lest  the  jar  should  be  too  great,  and  give  pain  to  the 
dead.  But,  0  !  to  strike  that  corpse  a  blow  !  to  maltreat 
it !  to  tumble  it  upon  the  floor  1  Horrible !  No  wonder 
that  Ella  was  compelled  to  sit  down  upon  the  sofa,  over- 
come by  her  agitation. 

Herbert  left  the  room  in  haste,  and  in  passing  through 
the  entry  and  then  out  into  the  portico  which  led  to  the 
wing,  he  met  Mrs.  Shelton  at  the  door  of  the  library.  They 
both  seemed  surprised  that  they  did  not  find  the  door  open 
or  ajar;  but,  without  exchanging  a  word,  they  entered 
simultaneously,  and  discovered  poor  Old  Toney  lying  upon 
the  floor  in  strong  convulsions.  His  jaws  were  locked,  and 
he  was  foaming  at  the  mouth.  His  eyes  were  rolled  back, 
and  his  features  very  much  distorted ;  and  there  was  a 
choking  sound  in  his  throat,  as  if  he  was  strangling  from  a 
bone,  or  other  hard  substance,  pressing  against  the  larynx. 

Mrs.  Shelton  ran  to  the  medicine  chest — for  every  planter 
has  his  medicine  chest,  and  frequently  is  his  own  doctor — 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE   LAND-PIRATE.  1G9 

and  procured  a  vial  of  nitrous  ether.  She  poured  a  good 
deal  of  it  upon  her  handkerchief  and  applied  it  to  his  nose. 
In  a  little  while,  the  convulsions  became  weaker,  and,  at 
length,  the  old  man  lay  quite  still.  A  deep  sigh  came  from 
his  chest,  and  then  he  groaned  aloud.  He  opened  his  eyes 
and  looked  around  him,  and  seemed  to  understand  what 
had  happened ;  for  he  pressed  first  the  hand  of  his  mistress, 
and  then  the  hand  of  Mr.  Herbert,  as  they  still  held  his  to 
prevent  his  arms  from  jerking  upward,  as  they  had  done 
while  the  fit  was  upon  him.  Old  Toney  closed  his  eyes 
again,  and  seemed  to  be  asleep ;  but  he  heard  Mr.  Herbert 
ask  Mrs.  Shelton  if  he  had  ever  been  subject  before  to  con- 
vulsions of  any  kind. 

"O,  no,"  said  Mrs.  kShelton,  in  reply,  "it  is  only  the 
result  of  strong  emotions  which  have  been  unable  to  find 
vent  in  any  other  way.  He  could  weep  and  find  relief  in 
tears  when  his  young  master  perished  so  mysteriously,  but 
now  his  sorrow  is  too  big  for  tears.  Poor  old  man !  For 
his  and  for  Ella's  sake  I  must  try  to  bear  my  own  burden, 
and  help  them  bear  theirs  also.  May  God  give  me  strength 
to  stand  up  under  these  heavy  afflictions." 

The  poor,  grief-stricken  widow  could  say  no  more.  All 
the  fountains  of  her  soul  were  opened,  and  she  wept  copious 
tears,  the  first  which  she  had  shed  since  the  death  of  her 
husband. 

Although  a  woman's  tears  are  always  refreshing  to  her 
own  spirit,  and  seem  to  relieve  her  soul,  which  has  been 
parched  and  withered  by  sorrow's  blighting  touch,  yet  those 
same  tears  are  ever  distressing  to  the  man  whose  heart  is 
tender  and  kind.  Herbert  felt  deeply  moved,  and  his  voice 
trembled  when  he  said  : 

"Do  not  weep,  madam!  The  God  of  the  widow  has 
promised  to  be  your  friend,  and  he  will  raise  up  friends  on 
earth  also,  to  protect  and  love  you." 

Old  Toney  had  heard  the  words  of  Mr.  Herbert,  and  was 
conscious  of  the  weeping  of  his  mistress ;  and  these,  com- 


170  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

bined,  effected  a  complete  restoration,  so  that  he  rose  from 
his  recumbent  position  and  sat  upright  upon  the  floor.  A 
few  tears  trickled  down  his  sable  cheeks,  but  they  were  the 
irrepressible  tears  of  sympathy  and  love.  From  that  mo- 
ment the  old  man  resolved  to  master  his  own  sorrow,  and 
assume  the  important  responsibility  of  being,  in  the  absence 
and  loss  of  a  master,  the  friend  and  protector  of  the  widow, 
the  guardian  of  her  child — the  father — servant — all — and  to 
stand  by  them  to  the  last  in  all  their  troubles,  as  he  had 
stood  faithful  in  their  times  of  prosperity,  and  happiness, 
and  peace.  It  was  the  assumption  of  an  important  respon- 
sibility, or,  rather,  one  which  had  been  delegated  by  his 
old  master  in  his  dying  moments ;  and  the  old  slave  resolved 
in  his  soul  that,  come  weal  or  woe,  he  would  not  only  sup- 
port his  mistress  and  her  daughter  by  the  labor  of  his  own 
hands,  if  need  be,  but  shield  them  from  harm,  and,  with 
his  broad  breast  to  screen  them  from  every  storm,  lest  the 
blast  should  blow  too  hard  and  rough  upon  their  delicate 
woman  frames.  May  God  help  you,  old  man !  for  darker 
days  are  coming,  not  only  upon  them,  but  upon  your  own 
household  also. 

It  was  not  until  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  that  all  the 
friends  and  relatives  of  the  deceased  had  assembled  at  the 
house  of  Mrs.  Shelton,  to  follow  the  corpse  of  the  departed 
old  hero  to  its  last  resting-place.  The  procession  was  an 
unusually  long  one  for  the  country,  but  at  the  grave  they 
were  met  by  many  hundreds  more,  the  most  of  whom  were 
the  black  people  of  the  surrounding  neighborhoods,  who, 
in  company  with  the  former  slaves  of  Colonel  Shelton,  had 
come  to  commingle  their  tears  at  the  grave  of  the  departed 
hero. 

When  the  procession  reached  the  avenue  of  cedar  trees, 
which  led  up  from  the  public  road  to  the  family  burying- 
ground  of  the  Sheltons,  the  coffin  was  lifted  from  the  wagon 
and  borne  upon  a  litter  by  six  pall-bearers,  who  were  the 
friends  of  Colonel  Shelton.      As  the  procession  moved  on 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  171 

foot  up  the  avenue,  the  minister  began  to  read  the  beau- 
tiful and  most  impressive  burial  service  of  the  Episcopal 
Church;  and  the  sweet  but  distinct  tours  of  his  melodious 
voice  floated  mournfully  upon  the  air,  and  thrilled  many  a 
heart.  With  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  his  Book  of  Common 
Vrayer  in  the  other;  with  his  flowing  black  silk  gown  and 
his  solemn  tread,  as  he  marched  in  front  of  the  procession  ; 
with  his  sweet  voice  and  his  heaven-beaming  blue  eyes, 
which  shone  as  bright  stars  of  hope  and  faith  upon  a  world 
of  sin  and  sorrow,  who  could  look  upon  that  godly  man, 
and  hear  him  say :  "  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life, 
saith  the  Lord;  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were 
dead,  yet  shall  he  live:  And  whosoever  liveth  and  dwelleth 
in  me  shall  never  die,"  without  feeling  his  heart  melt  within 
him,  and  experiencing  a  sense  of  gratitude  to  God  that  lie 
had  created  us  with  an  immortal  soul?  And  that  feeling 
was  still  further  increased,  and  the  audience,  nrost  of  whom 
were  blacks,  all  alike  felt  their  gratitude  to  God  grow 
stronger,  and  their  faith  mount  higher,  as  they  came  nearer 
the  grave  and  heard  the  melodious  voice  of  the  preacher, 
clear  and  distinct  as  the  trump  of  an  archangel  flying 
toward  the  earth  with  his  message  of  "glad  tidings"  and 
"good  news"  to  fallen  men,  exclaiming,  "I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  he  shall  stand  at  the  latter  day 
upon  the  earth  :  And  though  after  my  skin,  worms  destroy 
this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see  God  :  whom  I  shall  see 
for  myself,  and  mine  eyes  shall  behold,  and  not  another." 

Then,  when  he  had  reached  the  grave,  he  added,  "  We 
brought  nothing  into  the  world,  and  it  is  certain  we  can 
carry  nothing  out.  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath 
taken  away  :  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

Then  could  be  heard  a* murmuring  as  of  many  voices  ;  and 
if  a  stranger,  unaccustomed  to  such  scenes,  had  been  pres- 
ent, be  would  have  looked  up  and  around  to  discover  (he 
meaning  of  that  confused  murmur  of  many  voices,  so  un- 
usual at  ordinary  funerals  ;  and  he  would  have  found  out 


172  OLD   TONEY    AND   HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

that  those  sounds  proceeded  from  the  blacks,  who,  in  their 
usual  manner,  were  assenting  to  the  words  of  the  divine, 
whom  they  now  regarded  with  an  admiration  akin  to  that 
with  which  they  would  have  looked  upon  an  angel  from 
heaven.  As  they  bowed  their  heads  toward  the  minister, 
in  token  of  their  hearty  acquiescence  in  the  words  he  had 
spoken,  and  as  they  waved  their  bodies  to  and  fro  until  the 
whole  multitude  seemed  to  be  controlled  and  swayed  by  one 
impulse,  and  waved  together  in  regular  wavings  of  the 
body — like  an  army  "marking  time"  to  the  roll  of  the  drum 
— one  might  have  heard,  from  numerous  lips,  the  assent  of 
the  pious  Africans,  whose  responses  were  :  "  Bless  de  Lord  ;" 
"Tank  de  good  Lord;"  "  De  Lord's  name  be  praised." 

Foremost  among  these  sable  mourners  stood  Old  Toney, 
who  could  not  be  induced  to  remain  at  home,  notwithstand- 
ing all  the  earnest  solicitations  of  Herbert  and  of  Mrs.  Shel- 
ton,  who  insisted  that  he  had  been  too  ill,  and  had  too 
recently  recovered,  to  bear  the  ride  of  several  miles,  or 
withstand  any  further  excitement.     His  reply  had  been : 

"  I  have  been  de  body-sarbent  ob  my  dear  old  masser  all 
my  life  long ;  let  me  be  his  body-sarbent  to  de  last !  I 
know  dat  if  I  had  died  fust,  my  masser  would  hab  follow 
me  to  de  grabe,  and  see  me  at  rest !  Let  me  follow  my  old 
masser,  and  let  me  see  him  put  away  wid  my  own  eye  !  Let 
me  do  dis,  missis,  and  I  satisfy." 

His  earnest  and  very  natural  request  could  not  be  denied, 
and  the  faithful  old  man-servant  now  stood  at  the  foot  of 
the  grave  in  mournful  silence,  partaking  in  no  other  way 
in  the  ceremonies  than  watching,  with  the  closest  scrutiny 
and  interest,  everything  which  was  said  and  done,  with  the 
eager  curiosity  of  a  monitor  who  watches  over  the  conduct 
of  his  fellow-students  in  the  absence  of  the  teacher.  Upon 
his  black  fur  hat  had  been  placed,  by  his  own  request,  a 
long  piece  of  crape,  which  waved  like  a  black  streamer  in 
the  breeze,  and  as  he  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  grave  he 
seemed  to  be  the  chief  mourner  there. 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  173 

And  as  the  minister  stooped  down,  and  lifting  a  handful 
of  earth,  flung  a  portion  of  it  upon  the  coffin  after  it  had 
been  lowered  into  the  grave,  saying  at  the  same  time, 
"Dust  to  dust," — and  as  he  threw  on  the  remainder — "ashes 
to  ashes,"  Old  Toney  groaned  so  loud  that  the  minister 
himself  looked  up  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  felt  his  sym- 
pathetic heart  ache  with  pity  for  the  sufferer.  It  was,  there- 
fore, with  double  interest  in  the  ceremony,  and  with  an 
emphasis  intended  particularly  for  the  old  man,  as  well  as 
those  connected  by  the  closer  ties  of  consanguinity,  that  he 
said  :  "I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying  unto  me,  Write, 
From  henceforth  blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord; 
even  so  saith  the  Spirit,  for  they  rest  from  their  labors." 

Blessed  rest  for  the  war-worn,  heart-broken  old  soldier ! 
He  rests  now  from  his  labors  !  The  minister  had  said  bo, 
and  his  voice  sounded  as  the  voice  of  an  angel,  never  to  be 
forgotten.  He  has  borne  fatigues  and  encountered  hard- 
ships, and  in  his  old  age  suffered  afflictions  which  had  even 
wrung  a  soldier's  heart,  however  brave  and  strong,  but  he 
rested  now  from  his  labors.  Hear  it,  Old  Toney !  hear  it, 
poor  lonely  widow  and  grief-smitten  orphan !  your  loved 
one  rests  now  from  his  labors  !  There  peacefully  and  quietly 
let  him  rest,  "with  his  martial  cloak  around  him,"  until  the 
judgment  morn,  and  bow  to  the  will  of  God,  heartily  and 
without  a  murmur,  even  as  ye  bowed  your  heads  when  the 
preacher,  with  eyes  upturned  and  hands  uplifted  toward 
heaven,  concluded  the  solemn  and  interesting  funeral  service 
with  the  words  :  "  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
the  love  of  God,  and  the  fellowship  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be 
with  you  all,  evermore.     Amen." 

Who  has  ever  heard  the  funeral  service  of  the  Episcopal 
Chtirch  without  a  feeling  of  solemnity?  Who  docs  not 
remember,  with  sacred  pleasure,  the  hallowed  tones  of  some 
eminent  and  lovely  man  of  God,  as  he  walked  in  front  of 
the  hearse  by  the  sexton's  side,  to  bury  the  form  of  the 
dead  one  whom  he  loved  ?     0,  the  days  of  boyhood,  departed 


174  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

never  more  to  return  !  But,  as  dear  as  their  memory,  there 
is  a  pleasure  sweetest  of  all,  though  so  mournful,  in  hearing 
still  the  echoes  of  a  holy  voice  now  hushed  in  death — 
echoes  through  long  years,  which  I  heard  when  a  boy,  and 
which  I  shall  continue  to  hear  even  when  I  shall  become 
an  old  man.  Dear,  departed,  universally  beloved,  holy  man 
of  God;  thy  voice  shall  be  heard  no  more  on  earth,  like 
sweetest  music,  saying :  "  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the 
life  ! "  And  that  old  sexton,  too,  who  used  to  walk  beside 
thee,*and  whose  head  shook  with  palsy  from  side  to  side, 
as  if  he  were  silently,  but  continually  making  his  protests 
against  death's  doings ;  he,  too,  has  gone  to  his  rest,  and 
himself  in  turn  needed  a  sexton  to  conduct  him  to  his  long 
home. 

Yes,  the  preacher  and  the  sexton  shall  no  more  walk 
together  to  the  grave ;  but  we  feel  assured  that  they  shall 
clasp  hands  in  heaven.  But,  0  !  that  man  of  God  !  and,  0  ! 
the  music  of  that  voice  !  that  voice,  who  can  forget  ? 

But  although  there  was  just  such  a  voice  heard  at  the 
burial  of  Colonel  Shelton,  and  although  the  funeral  service 
was  read  in  the  minister's  most  impressive  style,  yet,  in  Old 
Toney's  estimation,  there  was  something  lacking ;  and  he 
still  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  grave,  and  now  and  then  looked 
around  him,  as  if  expecting  more  to  be  done.  His  mistress 
and  her  daughter  had  already  returned  homeward,  accom- 
panied by  the  minister  and  Mr.  Green,  the  lawyer,  and 
several  other  of  her  most  devoted  friends.  But  still  Old 
Toncy  stirred  not  from  the  spot ;  but  with  folded  arms 
looked  down  into  the  grave,  which  they  were  now  filling 
with  earth,  shovelful  by  shovelful.  And  as  the  old  man 
looked  down  at  the  grave-digger's  work,  he  could  not  help 
wishing  in  his  heart  that  his  old  master  had  been  buried 
also  with  all  the  funeral  honors  due  to  the  valiant  soldier. 
There  was  no  beat  of  muffled  drum,  no  dead  march  played 
upon  the  fife,  no  solemn  bugle-blast,  no  military  salute  fired 
over  the  grave  of  the  dead  hero.     The  old  man  had  been 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  175 

used  to  all  this,  and  he  had  often  been  melted  to  tears  by 
the  mournful  tap  of  the  muffled  drum,  as  it  heralded  to  the 
grave  a  dead  warrior  slain  in  battle  by  the  bullets  of  the 
conquered  and  retreating  foe — a  conqueror  slain  when  flushed 
with  victory  ! 

Old  Toncy,  we  say,  looked  for  something  like  this ;  but 
he  would  look  in  vain  for  its  counterpart,  although  a  sub- 
stitute might  be  offered.  And  as  he  looked  into  the  grave 
and  heard  the  dull  sound  of  the  clods  falling  heavily,  pain- 
fully upon  the  coffin,  his  keen  ears  caught  the  tramping 
sound  of  men's  feet,  which  seemed  to  him  as  the  regular 
tramp  of  soldiers,  who  were  coming  to  surprise  their  dead 
comrade  with  military  honors.  Old  Toncy  looked  over  the 
heads  of  the  crowd  which  began  to  give  way  and  part  in 
the  center,  and  then  he  saw  what  he  had  seen  but  once  or 
twice  before,  a  band  of  Freemasons,  who  had  just  arrived 
from  a  distant  lodge,  to  attend  the  burial  of  their  brother 
Mason,  and  some-time  Worshipful  Master. 

We  are  no  apologists  for  the  ancient  and  honorable  Fra- 
ternity of  Freemasons.  But  we  must  be  permitted  to  say 
that  the  very  name  of  "  Freemasonry  "  is  invested  with  a 
charm,  and  excites  an  interest  which  but  few  persons  can 
resist,  belie  their  feelings  as  they  may,  or,  however  much 
they  may  be  influenced  by  prejudice.  Indeed,  its  very 
antiquity  should  command  respect,  if  nothing  else  in  its  past 
history  is  worthy  of  admiration.  Claiming  an  origin  which 
dates  back  to  the  remotest  ages  of  civilization  and  refine- 
ment, older  than  the  "  Society  of  Jesus,"  older  than  the 
Knights  Templars,  and  professing  to  be  older  than  the  re- 
ligion of  Jesus  Christ,  and  coeval  with  the  building  of 
Solomon's  Temple  ;  having  disciples  in  every  part  of  the 
habitable  globe,  and  invested  with  the  secret  signs,  and 
grips,  and  passwords  by  which  they  can  make  themselves 
known  to  each  other,  whether  in  the  dark  or  broad  light 
of  day,  on  land  or  sea,  when  near  or  at  a  distance,  in  times 
of  peril  and  distress,  in  war  as  in  peace,  in  public   or  in 


176  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

private ;  bound  by  the  most  stringent  rules,  and  free,  as  their 
name  indicates ;  possessing  Grand  and  Subordinate  Lodges, 
and  yet  each  Lodge  independent ;  having  a  Head,  and  yet 
acknowledging  no  masters,  and  bound  only  by  their  oaths 
to  assist  each  other  in  times  of  trouble  and  distress,  to 
befriend  the  widow  and  the  fatherless,  to  love  their  country 
and  promote  the  best  interests  of  society  at  large  ;  taking 
care,  however,  that  in  dispensing  their  charities  they  do 
not  depart  from  the  golden  precept  of  unot  letting  their 
left  hand  know  what  their  right  hand  doeth,"  thus  causing 
light  to  shine  in  darkness,  and  bringing  back  smiles  to  the 
heart  which  was  overburdened  with  sorrow — surely  an  in- 
stitution like  this,  whose  movements,  though  mysterious, 
produce  no  dread,  and  whose  secret  acts  of  benevolence  are 
so  antagonistic  to  the  boastful  spirit  of  the  Pharisee,  who 
proclaims  his  charitable  deeds  not  only  from  the  housetops 
and  in  the  market-places,  but,  in  these  modern  times,  through 
the  newspapers  and  by  the  telegraphic  wires ;  surely,  we 
say,  such  an  institution  is  calculated  to  excite  the  admira- 
tion of  the  intelligent,  rather  than  his  opposition  and  abuse. 
But  if  the  antiquity,  the  mystery,  the  benevolence,  the 
freedom,  the  brotherly  love  of  Freemasonry  are  subjects 
worthy  of  thought,  and  well  calculated  to  command  the 
world's  respect,  there  is  something  in  their  outward  parade, 
the  simplicity  yet  grandeur  of  their  regalia,  which  never 
fails  to  command  the  admiration  of  the  illiterate  and  igno- 
rant. And  such  was  the  case  now  with  Old  Toney.  It 
would  have  been  enough  for  him  to  know  that  his  own 
dear  master  had  been  a  Mason,  and  that  once,  in  years  gone 
by,  he  had  sat  in  the  honorable  chair  of  the  Worshipful 
Master  of  the  Lodge,  and  had  been  recognized  as  their  chief. 
But  now  that  they  came  in  double  file,  as  a  band  of 
soldiers  marching  with  trailed  arms  to  the  grave  of  their 
dead  comrade — and  when  he  saw  them  all  in  uniform,  with 
their  white  aprons  of  spotless  lambskin,  and  not,  as  now, 
of  white  linen,  and   around  the  necks  of  some   the   silver 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    TITF.    LAXD-PIR ATE.  177 

trinkets  which  they  wore  as  emblems  ef  their  office,  then 
Old  Toney  felt  better  satisfied;  and  ho.  said,  in  his  heart, 
while  he  nodded  his  head  several  times,  "  Berry  good  !  berry 
good,  indeed  !  All  master's  sojers,  disb.ind,  and  scatter  ober 
de  whole  face  ob  de  eart' — from  Sout'  C.t'lina  clean  to  de  big 
Norred!  Who  gwine  find  'urn  again?  Masser  been  a  good 
Mason,  which  I  forgot.  Let  de  Mason  bury  him  den.  I 
berry  tankful  dere  is  a  substitute  fouud  for  de  sojers.  Pity 
do'  dey  don't  hab  guns  and  cartridge  box." 

Old  Toney's  thoughts  were  interrupted  now  by  the  pro- 
ceedings at  the  grave,  watching  all  their  movements,  to  see 
if  the  "  substitute"  would  answer  or  at  all  approach  his  idea 
of  what  a  great  man's  burial  should  be ;  for  as  yet  his  master 
had  been  only  half-way  buried ;  buried  only  as  an  ordinary 
man  ;  he  had  not  been  interred,  nor,  under  the  circumstances, 
could  he  possibly  be  interred  with  all  the  honors  which  Old 
Toney's  master  deserved ;  for  the  President  of  the  United 
States  might  die,  or  a  king  might  fall  dead  from  his  throne, 
but  what  were  they  to  Old  Toney  ?  and  in  what  comparison 
could  they  stand  in  his  estimation  with  Colonel  Shelton  ? 

When  Old  Toney  saw  the  Freemasons  join  hands  in  token 
of  the  eternal  and  unbroken  link  which  bound  them  together 
as  a  band  of  brothers;  and  when  he  saw  them  going  round 
and  round  the  grave,  and  each  one.  at  a  certain  jmint  of  the 
circuit,  dropping  in  a  sprig  of  green  myrtle  or  fresh  cedar, 
which,  in  the  absence  of  the  Oriental  acacia,  served  to  remind 
the  spectators  of  their  abiding  faith  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul ;  when  he  heard  the  solemn  but  hopeful  words  of  the 
chaplain,  "  If  a  tree  be  cut  down  its  you  ng  and  tender  branches 
shall  spring  up  again,"  words  so  like,  "  I  am  the  resurrection 
and  the  life,"  which  were  still  ringing  in  the  old  man's  ears; 
and  when  the  ancient  form  of  assent,  "  So  mote  it  be,"  sounding 
so  much  like  Hebrew  to  him,  was  utterc  <1  by  numerous  voices  ; 
and  their  hand?  uplifted  were  brought  down  simultaneously 
with  a  slap  upon  the  thigh,  so  loud  and  sonorous  that  it 
awoke  the  echoes  of  the  neighboring  forest  ;  and  when  their 
8* 


178  OLD  TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

wails  of  distress  rose  in  murmurs,  but  floated  high  over  the 
heads  of  the  multitude,  causing  the  nerves  to  thrill  and  the 
heart  to  stand  still  with  awe ;  and  when  the  music  of  their 
voices,  in  admirable  unison,  was  added  to  all  these  mysterious 
ceremonies,  and  that  grand  old  Masonic  dirge  had  been  sung, 
then  Old  Toney  could  no  longer  suppress  his  admiration, 
and  he  laughed  to  himself  the  "  Holy  Laugh,"  as  it  is  called 
by  the  Methodists,  and  bowed  his  head  many  times  in  ap- 
proval. In  truth,  such  was  the  old  man's  enthusiasm,  that 
he  could  not  resist  the  impulse,  at  the  close  of  the  Masonic 
burial,  of  going  up  to  the  Worshipful  Master  and  thanking 
him  and  his  fraternity  for  burying  his  master  so  well,  when 
he  had  supposed  that  there  was  no  chance  of  his  being 
buried  at  all!  that  is,  either  by  the  military  or  a  "substi- 
tute." 

And  besides,  Old  Toney  felt  that,  as  the  oldest  representa- 
tive and  present  head  of  the  family,  it  was  his  right,  his  duty, 
to  return  his  heartfelt  thanks,  and  the  thanks  of  Colonel 
Shelton's  family,  to  these  singular  men,  who  had  come  so 
far  to  do  honor  to  the  remains,  and  shed  an  honest  tear  to 
the  memory,  of  their  illustrious  brother. 

"  I  berry  t'ankful  to  you,  Masser  Mason,"  said  Old  Toney, 
addressing  the  Chaplain  of  the  Lodge.  "  You  do  my  heart 
berry  much  good,  and  tek  a  great  weight  off  my  mind.  Aldo 
you  ain't  sojers,  and  didn't  bring  any  gun  wid  you  to  fire 
de  big  platoon,  you  mek  cle  big  slap  wid  all  your  hands 
togedcler !  Dat  mek  me  tink  ob  sojerin'.  My  masser  was 
a  brave  sojer,  masser,  and  I  berry  glad  you  bring  de  big 
dap  as  a  substitute  for  de  big  platoon  !  When  we  can't  get 
gun  we  must  tankful  for  pistol." 

"Yes,  old  man,"  said  the  Chaplain,  with  a  smile,  "your 
master  was  more — much  more — than  a  brave  warrior  !  He 
was  a  good  man ;  a  true  man ;  God's  noblest  work — an 
honest  man  !  " 

"God  bless  you,  Masser  Mason!"  (Old  Toney  did  not 
know  the  name  of  the  Chaplain,  nor  do  we.)     "God  bless 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  179 

you,  Masser  Mason,  for  dat  word  !     God  bless  you,  rnasser! 

God  bless  you!     God  bless" 

The  old  negro  knew  not  what  else  to  say,  nor  could  lie 
say  more,  for  his  heart  was  too  full.  He  had  been  touched 
in  a  very  tender  spot,  and  upon  a  very  delicate  chord.  For 
what  faithful  old  slave  does  not  feel  proud  to  hear  the  praises 
of  his  master,  even  when  alive  and  flushed  with  health  ?  But 
to  hear  the  praises  of  his  dead  master  !  and  of  such  a  master 
as  Old  Toney's  master !  It  was  like  the  captive  listening  to 
the  paean,  which  he  hears  with  rapture,  but  which  his  heart 
is  too  full  to  sing. 

Methinks  every  man  should  be  a  good  and  kind  master, 
husband,  father,  friend,  and  citizen  ;  that  when  he  comes  to 
die  he  may  be  followed  to  his  grave  by  such  friends,  and 
mourned  by  such  hearts  as  lamented  the  death  of  Colonel 
Shclton.  He  had  been  plucked  as  a  paving-stone  from  the 
domestic  hearth,  and  the  other  hearth-stones  may  all  tum- 
ble in  and  leave  a  wrecked  and  ruined  fireside,  but  he  will 
never  know  it.  Requicscatinpacc!  Rest,  old  warrior  !  Lie 
still  in  your  grave,  and  let  not  your  spirit  be  troubled  about 
the  future  of  time  or  eternity !  For  an  ocean  of  tears  shall 
be  shed,  and  upon  its  briny  bosom  your  spirit-vessel  shall 
be  wafted  heavenward,  where  the  captive's  sighing  shall 
cease,  and  all  tears  shall  be  wiped  from  his  eyes.  Rest  in 
peace,  brave,  good  old  man,  and  think  not  that  other  mourn- 
ers will  not  come  to  your  grave  to-day.  Look  at  the  crowd 
that  still  linger  behind !  There  is  a  perfect  sea  of  heads, 
though  its  waves  are  black  !  But  they  are  not  angry  waves. 
No,  no  !      The  sea  has  only  dressed  itself  in  mourning  ! 

As  the  last  of  the  Freemasons  and  all  the  relatives  of  the 
deceased  disappeared  from  the  throng  of  mourning  blacks, 
the  white  foam  disappeared  also,  and  there  was  no  more  a 
crested  wave.  They  were  all  black  waves,  but  harmless  as 
the  waves  of  the  Dead  Sea,  upon  which,  if  a  man  be  wrecked, 
he  will  float  and  never  sink.  The  white  man's  grief  is  ter- 
rible, but  the  grief  of  the  African,  as  a  general  rule,  becomes 


180  OLD    TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

a  positive  luxury.  He  can  mourn  all  day,  and  find  pleasure 
in  his  mourning.  His  lamentations  become  songs  which  he 
loves  to  sing ;  which  make  him  laugh,  while  they  make  oth- 
ers weep. 

There  are  more  than  five  hundred  of  these  dark  sons  and 
daughters  of  Ethiopia  who  have  come  to  attend  the  funeral 
of  Colonel  Shelton.  With  some  of  them — a  very  few — it  is 
a  gala  day ;  but  most  of  them  are  sincere,  hearty  mourners. 
And  chief  among  the  latter  is  Old  Toney,  and,  in  some 
respects,  his  counterpart,  Old  Sampson.  Old  Sampson  is  a 
negro  preacher,  and  he  has  come  on  horseback  full  twenty 
miles,  to  attend  the  funeral  of  Colonel  Shelton.  Sampson 
had  loved  the  old  Colonel ;  and  well  he  might,  for  had  not 
Colonel  Shelton  often,  and  over  and  over,  given  him  a  five 
or  a  ten,  and  even  a  twenty  dollar  bill,  for  preaching  occa- 
sionally to  his  black  people  ?  Old  Sampson  is  a  gray-headed 
old  Christian.  He  is  a  much  older  man  than  Old  Toney, 
but  his  head  is  not  so  white,  for  he  has  not  endured  the 
hardships  of  the  camp ;  nor  has  he  been  scorched  by  pes- 
tilential fevers.  His  hands,  too,  have  been  clear  of  blood, 
and  his  heart  is  as  pure  and  as  simple  as  the  child's.  He 
has  learned  none  of  the  vices  of  civilization,  while  his  soul 
has  been  elevated  by  the  meek  and  lowly  doctrines  of  Christ. 
He  is  a  sincere  Christian  and  an  humble  slave.  A  man  of 
great  power  and  influence  among  the  blacks,  he  is  univer- 
sally beloved  and  respected  by  the  whites,  who  greet  him 
kindly  wherever  they  meet  him,  shaking  him  by  the  hand 
as  an  equal,  while  many  believed  in  their  hearts  that  the 
illiterate  old  African  was  superior  to  them  all  in  godliness, 
and  many  a  lordly  planter  had  begged  him  to  pray  for  them 
in  secret.  Yes,  the  planter  and  the  slave,  the  Southern 
man  and  the  African  preacher,  have  gone  out  together  in 
the  thicket  and  knelt  there  together  at  the  throne  of  Grace. 

Old  Sampson,  standing  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  waved 
his  hand,  as  a  magician's  sable  wand  over  the  multitude, 
and  in  a  moment  the  crowd  stood  still. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND  riR ATE.  181 

"  My  dear  belubbed  bredren,"  said  the  old  African  preacher, 
in  his  broken  English,  "we  is  all  met  upon  a  berry  solemn 
occasion.  De  corpse  of  a  great  man  is  lying  here  in  dis 
grave,  but  his  sperit  is  now  in  yonder  world.  In  my  mind's 
eye  I  see  him  now  in  ole  Farer  Abraham's  bosom,  lying 
dere  at  rest  like  a  child  nestling  on  its  mudder's  breast. 
He  is  a  great  way  off  from  us,  but  he  can  see  us  mourners 
still,  and  his  lips  are  moving  now  as  if  he  wanted  to  say  a 
word  to  dis  large  assembly.  Bredren,  listen !  hearken  to 
de  old  Colonel's  voice!" 

The  old  preacher  stopped  and  held  his  hand  to  his  ear 
in  the  attitude  of  a  listener.  The  murmurs  of  approbation 
ceased  in  a  moment,  and  every  one  looked  upward,  or  cocked 
their  ears  to  catch  the  faintest  whisper  stealing  through  the 
air  from  the  lips  of  a  glorified  spirit.  The  silence  was 
unbroken  for  several  moments,  and  naught  was  heard  save 
the  waving  of  the  tree-tops,  blown  gently  by  the  frosty  air. 
During  all  these  moments  of  silence  the  sable  orator  stood 
perfectly  still,  with  his  hand  to  his  ear,  as  if  expecting  to 
hear  a  sound  from  heaven.  At  length  his  arm  dropped 
slowly  to  his  side,  and  he  spoke  again  : 

"Didn't  you  hear  'urn?"  said  he,  looking  around  upon 
the  large  audience,  who  had  imitated  his  action,  and  were 
looking,  with  strained  eyes  and  open  mouths,  toward  him. 

"No,  Brudder  Sampson,"  said  an  old  man  in  the  crowd; 
"I  didn't  hear  'um.  But  I 's  gettin'  too  old  fur  yerry 
good." 

"  You  did  n't  hear  'um,  enty  !  My  bredren,  dat's  because 
you  hab  no  faith.  /  hear  'um !  Me  !  plain  as  you  hear  de 
preacher.  And  de  voice  dat  come  to  my  mind  is  dis,  dat 
Colonel  Shelton  say :  '  I  hab  fought  de  good  fight ;  I  hab 
finished  my  course  on  earth,  and  henceforth  dere  is  reserved 
for  me  a  crown  ob  righteousness  and  glory;  I  am  here  safe 
and  at  rest  in  ole  Farer  Abraham's  bosom ;  and  I  now  know 
de  truth  ob  de  sayin' :  I  am  de  resurrection  and  de  life. 
If  any  man  believe  on  de  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  he  shall  live, 


182  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

though  he  were  dead.  But  if  any  man  believe  not  on  de 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let  him  be  anathema  maranatha.'  Dat  's 
what  I  hear,  my  bredren.  And  do  you  know  what  it  is  to  be 
anathema  maranatha  ?  It 's  a  big  word,  and  I  suppose  you 
dunno  what  it  means.  Well,  I  will  tell  you.  It  means  dis 
in  plain  English  :  Dem  dat  won't  believe  on  de  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and,  in  dis  Grospel  land,  laugh  at  his  religion,  and 
despise  his  cross,  and  say,  wid  de  wicked  Jews,  '  Crucify 
him !  crucify  him !  away  wid  him !  not  dis  man  but  Barab- 
bas,  a  tief  and  a  robber!'  let  such  a  one  be  accursed  for- 
ever !  Let  him  be  cursed  in  his  lying  down  and  in  his 
rising  up ;  in  his  bones  and  his  sinews ;  in  his  head  and  his 
stony  heart ;  ebery where  and  all  ober,  inside  and  out ;  let 
him  be  cursed ! — cursed  in  time,  and  cursed  in  eternity ! — 
cursed  on  earth  and  cursed  in  hell-fire  foreber  and  eber ! — 
one  mighty  and  eternal  curse  ob  de  Eternal,  Almighty,  sin- 
offended  God  !  And  in  de  name,  and  by  de  authority  ob 
my  Lord  and  Master,  I  say,  dis  day,  to  you  around  dis 
grave  :  Cursed  is  ebery  one  who  loves  not  de  Lord  Jesus 
Christ!" 

As  solemn  and  awe-inspiring  as  was  the  occasion,  the 
attitude,  the  voice,  the  commanding  aspect,  and  the  elo- 
quence of  the  old  African,  all  combined,  were  well  calcu- 
lated to  arouse  the  interest  and  enchain  the  attention  of  the 
audience  of  even  well-educated  persons.  But  now  these 
sable  sons  and  daughters  of  Ethiopia  were  perfectly  wild 
with  excitement.  Some  groaned  aloud  in  deprecation  of 
their  own  conscious  sinfulness  or  short-comings ;  others 
shrieked  in  alarm  or  despair,  as  if  in  expectation  of  the 
dreaded  curse  which  was  about  to  pounce  upon  them  in 
some  terrible  bodily  shape.  Some  shouted  "Amen!"  in 
one  part  of  the  crowd,  and  were  answered  with  an  "Amen  ! " 
from  the  remotest  part  of  the  excited  throng.  Some  tossed 
their  arms  in  the  air,  like  drowning  men  who,  giving  up  all 
hope  when,  buffeting  the  waves  in  vain,  they  see  the  last 
huge  billow  rolling  toward  them,  with  its  mountain  of  briny 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  183 

waters,  like  the  curse  of  the  anathema  maranatha,  so  awful 
in  its  consequences  to  them.  There  was  shouting  and  wild, 
maniacal  laughter;  there  were  shrieks,  and  there  were 
groans.  It  was  just  such  a  scene  as  we  may  imagine  of  a 
Church  of  bedlamites  with  a  bedlamite  for  a  preacher.  It 
was  time,  therefore,  to  still  the  tumult ;  for  Old  Sampson 
was  no  bedlamite,  and  could  not  endure  to  sec  disorder. 
He  was  simply  a  great,  though  uneducated  orator,  and  some- 
times his  power  was  irresistible  upon  the  white  man  as  well 
as  upon  the  unlettered  negro.  And  when  such  instances 
occurred,  as  they  frequently  did,  he  usually  paused  in  the 
midst  of  the  excitement,  and  exclaimed,  in  a  stentorian 
voice  of  rebuke,  in  mournful,  earnest  tones  :  '•'  The  Lord  is 
in  his  holy  temple  !  let  all  keep  silence  before  him  !"  And 
those  words  usually  had  the  desired  effect  in  stilling  the 
tumult  which  his  own  eloquence  had  raised. 

But  now  he  stopped  and  stood  still  a  moment ;  then  he 
raised  his  hands  upward,  and  lifted  his  eyes,  streaming  with 
tears,  toward  heaven,  and  with  a  voice  which  trembled  and 
seemed  almost  choked  with  the  intensity  of  his  feelings,  the 
old  man  said,  u  My  beloved  bredren,  let  us  all  pray."  And 
the  old  man  knelt  upon  the  fresh,  damp  earth  at  the  head 
of  the  grave,  and  Old  Toney  knelt  at  the  foot.  Immediately 
there  was  a  great  calm.  Every  man,  woman,  and  child  of 
that  vast  and  excited  throng  knelt  down  upon  their  knees 
— bowing  upon  the  cold  ground  as  their  priest  knelt,  in 
Nature's  temple,  to  offer  up  the  incense  of  his  prayer  to  a 
sin-offended  God.  For  where  is  the  negro  whose  wildest 
and  most  unnatural  excitement  will  not  grow  less — whose 
irreverence  will  not  subside — whose  awe  will  not  increase — 
whose  knee  will  not  bend,  at  the  voice  of  prayer  ?  The 
white  man's  knee  may  be  locked  by  bars  of  steel,  that  it 
can  not  bend  at  a  throne  of  mercy,  and  he  can  only  sit  or 
stand  stiff  and  rigid  as  the  unquarried  stone  or  the  sculp- 
tured marble ;  but  the  negro  is  emphatically  a  religious 
being,  and  feels  like  pulling  off'  his  shoes  when  he  is  tread- 


184  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

ing  upon  holy  ground.  It  was  thus  that  the  very  attitude 
and  the  voice  of  prayer  eould  hush,  in  a  moment,  the  tumult 
which  had  prevailed. 

The  old  preacher's  prayer  was  short  and  simple,  but  fer- 
vent and  full  of  faith.  It  was  not  a  long-winded  prayer, 
such  as  you  hear  from  the  pulpits  of  your  fashionable  di- 
vines or  studied  theologians,  or  pharisaical  preachers,  who 
weary  their  audience  to  death  by  a  long,  dry,  and  uninter- 
esting oration,  which  has  been  previously  written  and  com- 
mitted to  memory  in  their  study — an  oration  of  twenty  or 
thirty  minutes,  praying  at  the  people  and  not  to  their  God ; 
who  use  prayer — public  prayer — as  a  rod  of  chastisement, 
and  not  a  vehicle  of  mercy.  No  !  Old  Sampson's  prayer 
was  short  and  simple,  as  the  prayer  of  a  little  child  who 
begs  imploringly  its  mother  for  bread.  But  little  longer 
than  the  Lord's  Prayer,  it  occupied  but  two  or  three  min- 
utes. Our  Lord's  Prayer  did  not  occupy  him  sixty  seconds. 
Old  Sampson  condensed  his  desires,  although  so  earnest,  so 
fervent,  into  a  few  brief  paragraphs,  which  occupied  him  but 
three  or  four  minutes.  He  tried  to  imitate  his  Lord  even 
in  the  brevity  of  his  prayers ;  and  certainly  they  were  as 
fervent  as  a  mortal  could  utter. 

The  old  man  ceased  when  he  had  said  "Amen,"  and  rose 
slowly  from  his  knees  ;  then  waving  his  hand — his  long, 
bony  arm — upward,  he  commenced  to  sing,  and  was  assisted 
by  more  than  five  hundred  voices,  all  in  unison — voices  of 
melody  and  sweetness  which  had  never  been  strained  nor 
cracked  by  over-exertion  or  unnatural  efforts  to  pervert  the 
true  language  of  the  vocal  chord.  The  song  which  they 
sung  was  a  familiar  one,  which  most  of  my  readers  have, 
perhaps,  often  heard  and  sung,  as  it  was  then  sung  in  the 
wild  woods,  by  an  immense  assembly  of  blacks,  standing  by 
a  new-made  grave.  It  possessed  peculiar  power  and  inter 
est: 

"  O  !  there  shall  ho  mourning,  mourning,  mourning, 
0  !  there  shall  he  mourning  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ! 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  185 

Masters  and  servants  there  shall  part, 
Masters  and  servants  there  shall  part, 
Masters  and  servants  there  shall  part, 
Shall  part  to  meet  no  more.*' 

There  were  other  verses,  alluding  to  the  separation  of 
parents  and  children,  husbands  and  wives,  friends  and  neigh- 
bors, etc. ;  and  the  sounds  of  these  words  seemed  like  the 
wail  of  the  disconsolate,  who  were  without  hope  or  joy  in 
the  world. 

But  the  spirit  of  the  song  changed,  and  the  effect  was  like 
electricity  upon  the  crowd  ;  for  although  the  tune  was  the 
same,  yet  it  seemed  very  different,  for  it  sounded  no  more 
like  a  requiem,  but  like  a  chorus  of  happy  voices  joining  in 
a  song  of  rejoicing.  It  was  now  a  shout  rather  than  a  low 
wailing.  The  last  verse  which  was  sung  was  so  appropriate, 
and  so  soul-subduing,  that  the  preacher  himself  shed  tears 
of  joy,  and  many  wept  through  pure  gladness  of  spirit : 

"O!  there  shall  he  shouting,  shouting,  shouting, 
0  !  there  shall  be  shouting  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ  I 
Masters  and  servants  there  shall  meet, 
Masters  and  servants  there  shall  meet, 
Masters  and  servants  there  shall  meet, 
Shall  meet  to  part  no  more." 

While  they  were  singing  this  song  the  old  preacher,  who 
seemed  a  head  taller  than  the  rest,  stood  upon  a  little  mound 
of  fresh  clay,  at  the  head  of  the  grave — thus  elevating  him 
still  higher  above  the  heads  of  the  crowd  ;  and  as  they  sung, 
the  old  man  beat  time  with  his  right  hand,  like  the  lender 
of  a  grand  orchestra.  And  never  was  there  a  leader  who 
beat  time  better,  and  never  an  orchestra  who  sung  more  ill 
unison,  and  never  a  grander  temple,  whose  walls  were  the 
green  trees  of  the  forest,  and  whose  vaulted  ceiling  was  the 
blue  canopy  of  heaven. 

But  the  song  of  the  judgment  ceased  ;  and  as  night  was 
nigh  at  hand,  they  returned  to  their  homes,  singing,  as  they 
went,  other  songs,  which  spoke  of  death,  and  heaven,  and 
eternal  felicity. 


186  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

Before  Old  Toney  mounted  again  his  coal-black  steed,  and 
ere  the  preacher  had  left  the  grave  to  return  to  his  home 
also,  he  took  Old  Sampson  by  the  hand,  while  big  tears  of 
gratitude  streamed  down  his  old  furrowed  cheeks. 

"  I  berry  t'ankful  to  you,  my  brudder  Sampson,"  said  he. 
"  You  do  my  heart  great  good.  White  buckra's  preach  berry 
good,  and  Freemason  burial  berry  good  too  ;  but,  my  dear 
brudder,  what  you  say  is  better  dan  dem  all.  I  don't  say 
'urn  to  fool  you,  or  to  mek  you  wain,  my  brudder;  for  it 
is  from  my  heart,  which  was  berry  full,  because  dere  was 
no  big  platoon  fired  ober  my  old  masser  s  grave.  But,  my 
dear  brudder,  I  t'ank  you  berry  much  ;  and  I  do  t'ink  dat 
all  tree  put  togedder — de  buckra  preacher,  de  Freemason, 
and  your  preachment — all  t'ree  on  'em  put  togedder,  is  most 
as  good  as  one  big  platoon.  God  bless  you,  my  brudder  ! 
God  bless  you  !  " 

"  God  bless  you  too,  my  brudder  Toney,"  said  Old  Samp- 
son. "  I  'se  berry  sorry  for  you,  and  I  know  how  to  feel 
for  one  like  you  ;  for  I  too  met  wid  de  same  heavy  loss 
about  ten  year  ago,  when  I  loss  my  masser.  But  God  has 
help  me  to  take  care  of  my  missis  and  her  poor  little  orphan 
chilluns.  I  've  tried  hard  to  be  a  farer  to  dem ;  and  de  little 
money  I  could  mek  by  preachin'  has  help  me  to  send  some 
on  'em  to  school.  I  hope  de  biggest  one  will  yet  be  a 
preacher,  to  tell  sinners  de  way  of  salvation.  But  you,  Old 
Toney,  hab  no  missis  to  educate,  and  no  nyung  masser" 

That  last  unfortunate  word  was  like  ripping  open  a  wound 
still  unhealed,  and  the  old  man  winced  and  groaned  as  if  in 
pain. 

"  Yes,  you  say  true,  my  brudder  Sampson.  i"  hab  no 
masser  now.  My  house  is  lef  unto  me  desolate,  and  even 
my  poor  nyung  missis  has  hung  her  harp  on  de  weepin' 
willow! " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  my  brudder  Toney,"  said  Old 
Sampson,  with  much  feeling,  while  he  took  Old  Toney 
affectionately  by  the   hand ;  "  I  did  not  mean  to  reproach 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  187 

you  because  you  had  no  masser.  No,  no !  It  is  a  berry 
sad  t'ing  to  bab  no  masser ;  a  berry  great  affliction  to  be 
widout  a  masser.  God  help  you,  my  bruddcr.  I  is  better 
off  dan  you,  for  I  is  hab  a  nyung  masser  growing  up  to  be 
a  man.  But  nebber  mind,  Old  Toney.  Nebber  mind — as 
my  poor  dead  masser  in  hcben  used  to  say — nebber  mind,  for 
some  day  or  anudder,  your  nyung  missis  will  get  married, 
and  den  you  will  hab  a  masser." 

"  T'ank  you,  my  brudder  Sampson,  for  dat  word  "  said 
Old  Toney,  grasping  the  old  preacher's  hand  and  shaking 
it  warmly  and  for  a  long  while.  "Like  a  minister  of  com- 
fort you  spoke  dat  word  in  my  ear  when  my  heart  was  sad 
and  my  mind  a  wanderin'.  For  just  den  I  had  forgot! — 
Yes  !  I  hope  de  blessed  day  ain't  berry  far  off  when  Mass' 
Edgar — I  mean  Mister  Herbert  —  dat  fine-lookin',  tall, 
splendid  man  wot  you  see  here  to-day  wid  Miss  Ella  lean- 
in'  on  his  arm — I  hope  de  good  time  ain't  berry  far  off 
when  Mass'  Edgar  will  marry  Miss  Ella,  and  den  I  shall 
hab  a  good,  and  a  kind,  and  a  berry  noble  masser — a  rale 
Charleston  gentleman  for  a  masser — a  spic-span  new  masser, 
right  from  de  city." 

"I  gib  you  joy,  my  brudder  Toney  Shclton.  You  can, 
indeed,  mourn,  but  not  as  close  widout  hope.  But  it  is  time 
to  go  now.  If  not  first,  we  are  last  at  de  grave  of  him  of 
whom  it  can  be  truly  said:  'A  good  man  has  fallen  in 
Israel.'  Good-by,  Brudder  Toney,  and  may  God  bless  and 
comfort  you.  Our  roads  part  just  here  at  de  grave,  but  we 
must  meet  at  de  grave  again,  my  brudder — you  and  I.  May 
we  be  ready  when  de  Lord  Jesus  shall  call  us  to  lie  down 
here  and  rest  from  our  labors." 

"  Good-by,  my  dear  brudder  Sampson,"  replied  Old  Toney, 
reverently  ;  and  he  bowed  his  head  over  the  hand  of  Old 
Sampson  to  conceal  the  tear  in  his  eye.  But  the  tear  drop- 
ped upon  the  preacher's  sable  hand,  and  Old  Toney  could 
could  only  say  : 

"  May  de  blessing  ob  de  good  Lord  be  wid  you  also." 


188  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

Thus  the  two  sincere  old  men  parted  and  went  away  from 
the  grave  of  Colonel  Shelton ;  and,  mounting  their  horses, 
rode  in  different  directions,  with  sad  countenances  and 
heavy  hearts,  to  their  respective  places  of  abode. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  189 


CHAPTER   XII. 

S  we  have  before  stated,  there  were  several  of  the 
friends  and  relatives  of  Mrs.  Shelton  who  returned 
with  her  to  her  humble  and  widowed  home.  They 
were  sincere,  true-hearted  friends,  who  could  appre- 
ciate true  worth,  and  did  not  measure  one's  value  by 
the  length  of  the  purse.  There  are  little  souls  in  the  world 
who  are  not  men,  but  who  were  intended  by  nature  for  tail- 
ors, who,  like  the  tailor,  or  the  cloth-dealer,  with  his  yard- 
stick in  hand,  looks  upon  a  tall  man  with  more  pleasure  than 
a  short  one,  because  his  greater  hight  suggests  the  additional 
yards  of  cloth  necessary  to  make  him  a  suit  of  clothes ;  or 
the  shoemaker,  whose  mouth  almost  waters  at  the  sight  of 
a  large  foot,  which  he  hopes  to  cover  with  a  bigger  piece 
of  leather,  at  a  much  bigger  price  than  ordinary.  There 
are  persons,  we  say,  whose  souls*  are  no  bigger  than  a  cob- 
bler's, or  a  tailor's,  are  said  to  be ;  although,  for  our  own 
part,  we  see  no  reason  why  their  souls  should  n't  be  as  big 
and  as  grand  as  the  souls  of  those  for  whom  they  labor. 
Indeed,  it  is  our  firm  belief  that  there  are  many  persons 
whose  souls  are  not  half  so  good  as  the  soles  they  wear  as 
a  protection  to  their  feet ;  and  it  is  such  as  these  who  value 
their  friends  by  "the  length  of  their  purse,"  or  the  "big- 
ness of  their  pile."  The  Sheltons,  doubtless,  may  have  had 
many  such  friends.  If  so,  it  is  very  certain  that  not  one  of 
them  came  to  the  dwelling  of  the  poor  widow  in  her  time 
of  trouble  and  distress ;  for  such  persons  as  these  are  not 


190  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

of  that  class  who  think  "it  is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of 
mourning  than  the  house  of  feasting." 

There  were  none  but  true  friends  with  Mrs.  Shelton  now ; 
and  for  the  honor  of  humanity  and  that  of  the  South,  be  it  said, 
that  her  house  was  as  full  as  it  could  hold.  For  there  were 
mattresses  and  feather-beds  spread  all  over  the  floor,  and  the 
small  house — every  room  in  it — was  filled  to  overflowing,  even 
as  the  great  mansion  used  often  to  be  filled  in  the  time  of 
Colonel  Shelton's  riches  and  prosperity.  For  these  kind 
friends  well  knew  that  although  Mrs.  Shelton  was  compar- 
atively poor — very  poor  to  what  she  had  been — yet  she  was 
independent,  and,  with  a  small  family  and  a  rigid  system  of 
economy,  she  could  live  free  from  the  cold  charities  and 
pitiful  contempt  of  the  world.  It  is  true  that  they  all  re- 
solved in  their  hearts  that  they  would  never  see  her  want 
for  anything ;  this  they  would  nobly  and  generously  see  to 
in  the  future  ;  and  in  doing  so,  they  would  take  care  not  to 
wound  her  pride,  or  remind  her  of  her  poverty. 

But  Mrs.  Shelton  did  not  need  pecuniary  aid  at  this  or 
any  other  time.  Old  Toney  had  made  a  fine  crop,  and  had 
gathered  in  an  abundant  harvest  of  corn,  and  peas,  and 
sweet  potatoes,  and  rice,  and  cotton.  There  was  plenty  of 
provisions  to  feed  many  more  horses  than  were  used  upon 
the  place ;  and  surely  there  would  be  no  stint  in  entertain- 
ing the  quests  and  their  horses  with  abundant  entertain- 
ment.  The  store-room  was  filled  almost  already  with  fresh 
pork — or,  rather,  pork  already  salted  and  almost  ready  to 
be  hung  up  for  the  smoke ;  while  there  was  no  scarcity  of 
fowls,  and  turkeys,  and  ducks,  and  other  poultry,  in  the 
yard;  and  there  were  mattresses,  and  feather-beds,  and  a 
plenty  of  warm  covering,  for  all  the  guests  who  had  re- 
turned home  with  the  widow.  In  short,  there  was  nothing 
lacking  to  add  to  the  physical  comfort  of  the  guests ;  and, 
humble  as  was  her  home,  Mrs.  Shelton,  so  far  from  mur- 
muring, was  contented  with  the  lot  which  Providence,  so 
inscrutable  in  his  ways,  had  assigned  her  so  late  in  life ;  for 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  191 

she  was  a  Christian,  and  believed  firmly  in  the  Christian's 
doctrine,  "  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd,  I  shall  not  want." 
She  had  never  once  thought  or  felt  like  murmuring  or 
repining  at  her  lot ;  and  if  God  should  decree  that  she 
should  wade  through  fire  and  blood,  she  felt  that  she  should 
wade  through  them  all  with  a  song  in  her  mouth.  God  help 
you,  poor  woman  !  for  your  faith  shall  be  tried  in  a  way  you 
wot  not  of. 

No,  no ;  it  was  only  love,  sympathy,  that  she  wanted — 
needed  so  much  now,  and  her  kind  and  considerate  friends 
well  knew  this  ;  and,  by  their  coming  unasked,  they  made 
her  poor  heart  glad  to  see  her  house — that  small  house — 
filled  with  so  many  of  her  old  friends.  But  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  she  was  in  not  a  little  trouble — and  her  trouble 
did  her  good  ;  for,  in  the  kindness  of  her  woman's  heart, 
she  was  not  a  little  distressed  that  so  many  of  the  gentle- 
men had  to  sleep  upon  the  floor,  all  except  the  minister. 
He,  dear  good  man,  objected  to  being  made  an  exception 
to  the  rule  ;  for  he  did  not  like,  he  said,  exceptions  to  gen- 
eral rules,  which  were  "good  enough  for  him  without  the 
exceptions."  But  Mrs.  Shelton  could,  on  no  account,  con- 
sent that  the  man  of  God  should  sleep  so  hard — as  hard  as 
the  rest — after  coming  so  far  to  bury  her  dead. 

"  Their  lot,  like  their  Master's,  is  hard  enough,  God 
knows,"  said  she.  "  For  if  they  are  true  disciples  of  Christ, 
like  him  they  are  "  men  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with 
grief." 

So  the  minister  slept  in  the  room  in  which  Colonel  Shel- 
ton died,  and  thought  of  the  time  when  he  too  must  enter 
the  "  valley  and  the  shadow  of  death."  And  in  pleading 
with  his  God,  in  the  dead  hour  of  the  night,  when  he  thought 
all  were  asleep,  his  voice  was  heard  pleading  in  behalf  of 
the  widow  and  the  orphan  girl — praying  also  for  himself, 
that  the  Savior  of  sinners  would  stand  by  him  in  the  hour 
and  article  of  death. 

There  are  many  who  remember  him  well — that  man  of 


192  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

God,  with  sweet,  melodious  voice,  and  cerulean,  angel-look- 
ing eyes,  although  he  is  at  rest  now,  and  for  many  years 
past  he  has  been  sleeping  in  the  graveyard  as  peacefully — 
more  quietly  than  he  slept  in  his  bed  that  night — as  peace- 
fully as  the  gallant  warrior  who  has  fought  many  bloody 
battles,  and  won  many  dear-bought  victories.  But  although 
he  is  dead  and  gone  upon  his  long  journey  home,  is  there 
a  man  now,  who  was  a  boy  then,  who  can  forget  that  holy 
man,  with  those  heavenly,  beautiful  blue  eyes,  through  which 
shone  a  bright,  burning,  spiritual  light,  which  seemed  like 
the  shining  of  his  heavenly  soul  through  those  splendid  orbs, 
which  reminded  one  of  the  eyes  of  Jesus  ;  who,  however, 
must  have  looked  as  no  other  man  ever  looked,  even  as  "  he 
spake  as  never  man  spake?" 

But  if  he  looked  not  like  Jesus,  he  certainly  spoke  like 
him  when  he  used  to  say,  in  those  peculiarly  sweet,  melo- 
dious tones — melodious  and  sweet  as  the  sweetest-toned 
harp  :  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest."  And  you  remember,  perhaps,  that 
other  text  of  his,  upon  which  he  used  to  dwell  with  such 
rapture  and  fervid  eloquence  :  "  Ho  !  every  one  that  thirsteth. 
Come,  buy  wine  and  milk,  without  money  and  without  price." 

With  these  and  many  other  passages  yet  more  appro- 
priate, had  he  sought  to  comfort  Mrs.  Shelton  ;  and  when 
he  went  away  the  next  day,  he  did  not  fail,  to  the  last,  to 
impress  the  truth  upon  the  minds  of  the  widow  and  her 
daughter,  that  come  what  may,  whether  weal  or  woe,  they 
had  a  Friend  in  heaven  "  who  sticketh  even  closer  than  a 
brother." 

The  minister  left,  after  breakfast,  with  some  others,  who 
were  compelled  to  return  to  their  domestie  duties.  But  Mr. 
Green,  the  attorney,  with  Mr.  Thomas  Shelton,  remained, 
for  the  purpose  of  reading  the  will  in  the  presence  of  sev- 
eral witnesses. 

Breakfast  being  now  over,  and  after  the  gentlemen  had 
smoked  their  cigars  of  old  Cuban  manufacture,  which  Mrs. 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  193 

Shelton  had  nodded  Fanny  to  hand  upon  a  silver  tray ;  for 
she  still  kept  the  old  family  plate  to  which  she  had  been  so 
long  accustomed.  When  the  gentlemen  had  finished  smok- 
ing their  cigars  in  the  library,  they  all  repaired  to  the  par- 
lor, for  the  purpose  of  breaking  the  seal  and  reading  the 
last  will  and  testament  of  Colonel  Shelton.  For  this  purpose 
the  company,  both  ladies  and  gentlemen,  were  assembled  in 
mournful  silence  ;  and  in  the  entry  were  all  the  servants — 
Old  Toney  and  Old  Rinah,  with  all  their  children,  from  the 
oldest  to  the  youngest,  all  anxious  to  hear  the  last  words  of 
their  old  master  now  lying  in  the  grave; — words  whose  pur- 
port were  known  to  Mrs.  Shelton,  but  of  which  even  she 
herself  had  never  read  or  placed  her  eyes  upon. 

There  is  an  interest  attached  to  the  reading  of  the  most 
ordinary  and  common-place  will ;  and  yet  we  can  not  call 
that  common-place  which  bequeathes  the  body  to  the  earth 
from  which  it  sprung,  and  the  soul  to  Grod  who  gave  it. 
The  last  will  and  testament  of  a  dying  man  now  dead,  are 
solemn  words — words  of  warning  to  the  living — words  which 
seem  to  come  from  the  grave  and  recall  the  form,  and  the 
attitude,  and  the  very  voice  of  the  deceased.  But  far  greater 
was  the  interest  felt  in  the  reading  of  this  particular  will ; 
not  that  there  was  any  doubt  as  to  its  propriety — its  wisdom, 
but  simply  because  it  was  the  will  of  Colonel  Shelton.  He 
had  but  little — comparatively  little — left  to  will  away  ;  but 
the  few  persons  most  deeply  interested  loved  to  hear  the 
echo  of  his  words,  although  written  upon  parchment  and 
read  by  an  attorney. 

And  most  interested  of  all,  perhaps,  was  Old  Toney.  The 
old  man,  with  crape  upon  his  arm,  leaned  against  the  door- 
sill,  with  his  head  bent  and  his  eyes  upon  the  carpet.  By 
his  side,  with  her  hands  under  her  check-apron,  stood  his 
wife ;  in  the  rear  were  all  his  children,  from  "  Young  Toney" 
down  to  "little  Patty,"  not  more  than  seven  or  eight  years 
old.  With  pious  care  had  they  been  gathered  ;  and,  dressed 
in  the  clean  garments  which  they  wore  the  day  before,  they 
9 


194  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

had  been  assembled,  by  the  direction  of  their  venerable  old 
parent,  to  hear  the  last  words  of  their  old  master — words 
spoken  to  them  and  of  them  in  the  last  will — the  only  will 
he  had  ever  executed.  Verily,  if  an  angel  from  heaven  had 
come  down  and  given  notice  that  he  was  about  to  speak  to 
them,  they  could  not  have  listened  with  more  eager  interest, 
nor  regarded  him  with  more  attention,  than  they  now  list- 
ened to  the  voice  of  Mr.  Green,  and  looked  upon  that  piece 
of  parchment. 

After  the  usual  preliminaries  were  over,  and  the  seal  was 
broken,  Mr.  Green  commenced  the  reading  of  the  will  in  his 
usual  slow  and  distinct  tones.  Every  word  was  uttered  with 
distinctness,  and  prolonged  to  such  length  that  the  hearers 
might  both  hear  plainly,  and  understand  fully,  the  purport 
and  intentions  of  the  division. 

The  disposition  and  purport  of  the  will,  in  its  first  part, 
was  to  the  effect  that  the  bulk  of  the  property  should  be 
given  in  trust  to  Mr.  Thomas  Shelton,  for  the  sole  use  and 
behoof  of  Mrs.  Shelton  and  her  daughter ;  to  revert  to  Ella 
Shelton  and  the  issue  of  her  body  should  she  ever  marry. 
But  if,  after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Shelton,  Ella  should  die  also, 
unmarried,  and  without  heirs,  then  they  should  all  be  free 
forever ;  the  land  to  be  sold  for  their  benefit,  and,  with  the 
proceeds  of  the  sale,  they  were  to  be  removed  to  Africa. 

Such  was  the  substance  of  the  first  part  of  the  will.  It 
was  unfortunate ;  but  Colonel  Shelton  did  not  then  know 
the  natural  repugnance  which  his  negroes  would  have  for 
such  a  removal.  But  it  was  null  and  void  ab  incvpio ;  for 
nothing  ever  occurred  to  render  their  removal  necessary  for 
the  fulfillment  of  the  Colonel's  wishes.  But,  in  the  close, 
it  was  worded  thus  : 

"  But  unto  Old  Toney,  and  his  wife  Binah  also,  for  and 
in  consideration  of  their  many  valuable  services  to  me  and 
to  mine  rendered,  I  give  their  freedom  entire  and  untram- 
meled,  to  take  effect  immediately  at  the  opening  and  read- 
ing of  this  will  :  Provided  " 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE     LAND-PIRATE.  195 

Old  Toney  heard  no  more — waited  to  hear  no  more;  for, 
before  Mr.  Green  could  continue  his  reading,  he  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  voice  of  the  old  man,  who  left  the  door- 
sill,  against  which  he  had  been  leaning,  and  walked  into  the 
middle  of  the  floor  greatly  excited. 

"I  can't  stand  flat,  Mass' Green  !    I  can't  stand  to  hear  dat !" 

"You  can't  stend  what,  old  man?"  .asked  Mr.  Green, 
who  pulled  off  his  spectacles  and  looked  at  Old  Toney  with 
surprise. 

"  My  freedom  !  masser  !  You  must  'a  read  dat  t'ing  Wrong ! 
My  masser  lub  me  too  much  to  do  dat  t'ing.  He  could  n't 
do  it  without  axin'  my  leave!  You  read  dat  t'ing-  wrong, 
Mass'  Green!" 

"Why,  old  man,  you  amaze  me!  Don't  you  want  your 
freedom,  which  you  so  richly  deserve,  and  have  so  nobly 
earned,  and  which  the  whole  country  would  acknowledge  to 
be  a  simple  act  of  justice?" 

"  No,  Mass'  Green  !  I  tell  you  no  !  My  old  masser  in 
his  lifetime  would  nebber  dare  to  make  me  dat  offer,  'case 
he  know  dat  it  would  break  my  heart.  And  Colonel  Shel- 
ton  was  too  good  a  man  to  break  de  heart  of  his  old  sar- 
bent,  who  lubbed  dc  berry  ground  on  which  he  walki  I. 
No!  masser,  no!  I  is  an  old  man  now,  as  old  as  my  old 
masser  'fore  he  died.  We  was  born  'bout  de  same  time, 
we  played  togedder  as  boys,  and  I  wanted  dat  we  should 
die  togedder  at  de  same  time  ;  but  de  good  Lord's  will  be 
done !  I  am  lef '  here  now,  and  I  must  stay  wid  my  missis 
and  her  darter,  Miss  Ella.  I  hab  lib'  to  be  an  old  and  a 
respectable  slave,  t'ank  de  good  Lord  !  I  is  been  wid  my 
masser  eberywhere,  eben  to  de  big  Norred,  and  far  out  to 
de  Massissip ;  and  at  New  Orleans  I  help  to  lick  de  British. 
And  now,  Mass'  Green,  after  all  dat,  to  be  made  a  free 
nigger!  0,  masser!  I  couldn't  stand  dat  disgrace,  for  it 
would  kill  me  outright!  I  couldn't  hold  up  my  head  any 
more  'mong  white  folks,  and  I  am  too  proud  to  go  wid  free 
niggers!     Why,   masser,  just  look    at   de  free   niggers  all 


196  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

round  you  !  Dey  is  even  'shamed  demselves  to  be  called 
free  niggers  !  Dey  rudder  you  call  dem  Egyptians  or  Gip- 
seys  ;  and  dat's  what  dey  say  dey  is  !  Gipseys,  not  free  nig- 
gers !  Dere  's  seberal  hundred  on  'em  here,  and  only  two 
or  t'ree  who  is  honest  enough  to  work !  De  rest  all  tief ; 
dey  is  all  lazy  and  mean  and  good  for  nottin' !  Dey  is  such 
a  by-word  and  such  a  disgrace  dat  eben  der  berry  dogs  look 
mean  and  tief-like  demselves  !  You  can  tell  a  free  nigger 
dog  as  soon  as  you  can  tell  a  free  nigger  hisself,  and  bofe 
on  'em  will  steal  sheep  r*  Masser  !  "  said  the  old  man,  with 
dignity,  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  hight,  and  folding 
his  brawny  arms  upon  his  broad  chest,  "  I  am  an  honest 
man  now ;  let  me  be  an  honest  man  till  I  die  !  De  good 
Lord  lef  us  a  prayer,  and  de  words  of  dat  prayer  is,  '  Lead 
us  not  into  temptation,  but  delibber  us  from  ebil ! '  Masser, 
I  nebber  stole  a  sebben-pence  in  my  life,  for  I  always  hab 
a  plenty  ob  money,  and  got  now  more  dan  fifty  dollars  in 
my  chest;  I  got  now  sebberal  gould  guineas  in  my  chest 
dat  I  hab  for  dese  fifteen  years  !  I  keep  'em  for  old  age 
and  hard  times.  But  de  hard  times  nebber  has  come  for 
me  to  brek  'um,  and  I  trust  in  de  Lord  dat  dey  nebber  will, 
and  dat  de  money  will  stand  den  for  my  chillums,  when  I 
dead.  But  put  me  in  de  way  ob  temptation,  mek  me  a  free 
nigger,  and  mebbe  I  will  tief  and  get  as  poor  and  as  mean 
as  any  free  nigger  or  sheep-stealin'  dog.  No,  no,  I  can't  be 
free  nigger,  masser !  Read  'um  ober  and  read  'um  right ! 
My  masser  was  too  sick  to  write,  and  you  mek  mistake, 
Mass'  Green !  And  if  de  berry  words  is  all  down  dere  as 
you  read  'um,  den  scratch  'um  out,  masser  !  scratch  'um  out !  " 


*It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  Old  Touey  speaks  in  reference  to  the  free  negrooa 
in  the  iutcrior  of  tho  State,  and  not  of  those  residing  in  Charleston,  with  whom  ho 
was  not  at  this  time  acquainted.  There  are  many  free  persons  of  color  in  Charleston, 
who  are  good  citizens,  very  well  educated,  and,  to  a  certain  degree,  refined,  who  aro 
industrious,  and  some  of  them  may  be  considered  wealthy.  Old  Toney  does  not, 
therefore,  speak  of  this  class,  of  whom  he  knows  nothing.  Ho  only  expresses  tho 
general  sentiment  of  the  plantation  negro  in  regard  to  those  free  negroes  with  whom 
he  is  best  acquainted. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.   '         197 

a  But,  old  man,"  said  Mr.  Green,  with  a  smile,  as  he  looked 
with  admiration  upon  the  old  man,  whose  melancholy  coun- 
tenance and  earnest  tones  interested  him  deeply ;  and  whose 
words,  all  broken  and  Anglo-African  as  they  were,  com- 
manded respect;  "but,  old  man,  I  can  not  alter  the  words 
of  a  will !  It  would  be  a  penal  offense  to  scratch  out  a 
single  line,  or  even  a  word  of  what  is  written  here!" 

"Can't  help  dat,  masser !  scratch  'urn  out!  scratch  'inn 
out!  or  if  you  is  afraid,  just  gib  me  dc  pen  and  I  will  take 
de  'sponsibility,  and  scratch  'urn  out  myself!  I  take  de  'spon- 
sibility, masser,  'cause,  you  know,  my  masser  could  n't  gone 
and  done  dat  t'ing  in  his  right  mind,  widout  fust  axin'  me ; 
and  as  Colonel  Shelton  did  n't  ax  me  about  it,  den  derc  is 
somet'ing  wrong.  I  know  full  well  dat  my  masser  would  n't 
hut  my  feelin'  so  if  he  was  strong  and  hearty  as  he  used 
to  be." 

Old  Toney  had  too  great  a  reverence  for  his  master  to 
say  openly,  and  in  distinct  terms,  that  Colonel  Shelton's 
mind  had  grown  weak,  or  that  he  had  lost  it  altogether  in 
his  sickness.  As  Mr.  Green  shook  his  head  and  smiled  at 
the  old  man's  words,  and  sat,  for  a  few  moments,  almost  in  a 
state  of  abstraction,  Old  Binah — who,  before  this  time  had 
advanced  to  the  side  of  her  husband,  and  had  been  for 
some  time  standing  with  him  on  the  floor,  manifesting  her 
distress  also,  by  painful  sighs,  and  wiping  her  eyes  stream- 
ing with  tears  with  the  corner  of  her  check-apron — Old 
Binah  dropped  upon  her  knees,  and  with  all  the  fervor  of  an 
earnest  supplicant,  implored  and  entreated  the  attorney  that 
the  words  which  accorded  them  their  freedom  might  be 
scratched  out,  even  as  Old  Toney  desired. 

"0,  sir!"  said  Old  Binah,  "I  have  tried  hard  to  be  a 
faithful  servant  all  my  life,  and  I  love  my  mistress !  What 
have  I  done  to  be  turned  off  now  in  my  old  age,  and  be 
degraded  to  a  free  nigger?" 

Old  Binah  always  used  good  English,  and  could  express 
herself  better  than  her  husband ;  but  she  felt  none  the  less 


198  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

keenly  her  distress,  and  her  heart  seemed  as  if  it  would 
break.  What  man  can  withstand  the  tears  of  a  woman, 
whether  white  or  black,  bond  or  free,  when  he  knows  there 
is  just  cause  for  grief?  Stern  or  phlegmatic  as  usually 
seemed  the  really  kind-hearted  Mr.  Green,  he  could  not  be 
indifferent  to  those  tears,  those  heart-breaking  sobs,  for  he 
was  compelled  to  draw  out  his  handkerchief  in  order  to 
wipe  his  moistened  eyes,  and  he  added  hastily  and  consol- 
ingly as  he  readjusted  his  spectacles : 

"Don't  cry,  old  woman;  it  shall  be  just  as  you  and  Old 
Toney  desire  !  Colonel  Shelton  was  a  wise  man,  and  I  per- 
ceive that  he  understood  your  case  thoroughly.  Listen 
now  to  the  remainder  of  the  clause,  the  reading  of  which 
was  interrupted  by  your  husband.  The  will  says  you  can 
have  your  freedom,  provided — you  recollect  that  was  the 
place  where  I  left  off?" 

'.  Yes,  masser,"  said  Old  Toney,  "  dat  de  berry  word !  I 
mark  'urn,  'prowided.'     Well,  what  dat  mean?" 

"Provided  you  wish  it!  but  he  advises  you  to  remain 
with  your  mistress  ;  and  whether  you  accept  your  freedom 
now  or  reject  it,  entreats  you  to  be  kind  to  Mrs.  Shelton  and 
her  daughter ;  and  to  guard  and  defend  them  as  long  as  you 
shall  live,  or  their  present  defenseless  situation  requires  your 
guardianship  and  protection." 

"  Bless  de  Lord  !  "  exclaimed  Old  Toney,  who  now  dropped 
upon  his  knees  by  the  side  of  his  wife,  seemingly  overpowered 
by  his  gratitude. 

"  Bless  de  Lord  !  "  said  Old  Binah,  weeping  now  with  joy, 
with  her  hands  clasped,  and  her  eyes  turned  up  toward 
heaven. 

"  Bless  de  Lord !  "  said  Old  Toney,  clasping  his  hands 
also,  as  if  in  prayer.  "  T'ank  de  Lord  for  his  goodness !  I 
t'ank  you,  masser,  for  dat  word.  It's  bad  enough  to  be 
widout  a  dear,  good  masser;  but  to  be  widout  a  dear,  good 
missis,  too  !  0  !  de  good  Lord  would  n't  afflict  a  poor  nigger 
so !     I  knew  my  old  masser  lub  me,  and  dat  he  could  n't 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  199 

gib  me  my  freedom  agin  my  will !     T'ank  de  Lord !   t'ank 
de  Lord!" 

"  Listen  now,  old  man,  to  what  follows  ;  for  Colonel  Shelton 
was  not  the  man  to  do  a  thing  but  half-way.  '  And  as  a 
tribute  of  my  gratitude  and  my  love  for  Old  Toney,  I  give 
and  bequeath  unto  said  Toney,  my  gold  watch,  with  the 
chain  and  trinkets  attached;  together  with  the  sum  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  ;  the  watch  and  chain  to  be  given 
to  him  immediately  upon  the  opening  and  reading  of  this 
will ;  and  the  money  to  be  paid  to  him  by  my  executor, 
Mr.  Thomas  Shelton,  out  of  the  proceeds  of  the  present  crop, 
or  as  much  of  it  as  can  be  spared,  at  the  present  time,  from 
the  expenses  of  the  family.' ' 

Old  Toney  seemed  not  half  so  glad  to  hear  about  the  gift 
of  a  watch  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  as  he  was  to 
hear  that  he  was  not  to  have  his  freedom,  and  not  to  be 
converted  from  a  respectable  slave  into  a  free  negro.  But 
it  must  be  confessed  that  when  Mr.  Thomas  Shelton  placed 
the  watch,  with  the  massive  fob-chain  and  trinkets  attached, 
in  his  sable  hand,  and  told  him  that  they  were  now  his,  and 
his  alone,  and  when  Old  Toney  looked  upon  the  shining 
metal,  glittering  and  glistening  in  his  ebony  palm  like  a 
bright  jewel  set  in  a  black  stone,  and  when  he  looked  upon 
the  little  second  hand  going  round  and  round  so  rapidly, 
four  times  in  a  minute,  and  the  hour  hand  and  the  minute 
hand,  of  pure  gold,  resting  upon  a  snow-white  face,  why, 
then,  it  must  be  confessed  that  Old  Toney's  lips  began  to 
part  a  little,  and  a  little  wider,  until  they  parted  into  a  broad 
grin  of  pleasure,  and  his  single  eye  sparkled  with  delight, 
Then  he  turned  round  and  touched  Old  Rinah  upon  the 
shoulder  with  the  end  of  his  index  finger,  and  said,  while 
he  tried  to  suppress  the  smile,  and  to  look  as  grave  and 
dignified  as  possible : 

"Mek  haste,  ole  'oman  !  Go  cut  hole  in  all  my  breeches  I 
and  mek  de  pocket— de  fob !  Mek  'urn  big,  so  he  can  come 
out  easy.     I  berry  t'ankful  to  you,  masscr,  and  to  my  poor 


200  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

ole  masser  for  clc  watch ;  and  to  you,  Mass'  Green,  too, 
'cause  you  read  de  will  right.  I  will  hab  need  ob  dis  watch  ; 
I  stand  berry  much  in  need  ob  'um  to  mek  dese  niggers 
work.  De  corn  nebber  grow  right,  masser,  unless  you  know 
de  time  ob  de  day  when  you  plant  'um.  Some  people  b'liebe 
in  de  moon,  and  dey  plants  by  de  moon,  and  kill  hog  by  de 
moon,  and  do  eberyt'ing  by  de  moon !  but  for  my  part  I 
b'liebe  in  plantin'  and  doin'  eberyt'ing  by  de  watch.  T'ank 
you  berry  kindly,  masser,  for  de  watch  at  dis  time." 

Old  Toney  went  away  very  much  delighted,  bowing  and 
smiling  ;  and  Old  Rinah  went  away  also,  with  low  courtesies, 
to  do  her  husband's  bidding — to  "cut  big  hole"  in  all  his 
breeches.  And  after  these  two  old  people  followed  all  their 
children ;  the  older  ones  with  a  smile,  the  younger  ones 
giggling  with  delight  that  the  old  age  of  their  venerable 
father  and  their  mother  was  not  to  be  dishonored.  And 
those  who  were  left  in  the  parlor — their  mistress  and  her 
friends — smiled  at  their  simplicity  when  they  heard  some 
of  them  saying  to  the  others  as  they  left  the  passage  and 
returned  to  the  yard : 

"Ain't  you  glad  Mass'  Green  didn't  mek  pappy  and 
mammy  free  niggers  ?  Ky  !  free  nigger  !  We  would  loss 
'um  den  !  Dey  would  n't  be  our  pappy  and  our  mammy ! 
Better  for  'um  to  be  dead  at  once  dan  turn  to  free  nigger !  " 

That  afternoon  Mr.  Green  and  Mr.  Shelton  left  the  house 
of  Mrs.  Shelton  ;  and  the  next  morning  an  early  breakfast 
was  ordered  for  Mr.  Herbert,  whose  intention  was  to  return 
without  any  further  delay  to  Charleston.  But  although  the 
breakfast  was  over  and  his  horse  brought  to  the  door  at  a 
very  early  hour,  yet  the  lover,  as  all  lovers,  still  lingered  as 
if  undetermined  whether  to  go  or  to  stay.  There  had  been 
no  time  appointed  for  his  marriage  ;  and  although  he  was 
exceedingly  anxious  that  it  should  take  place  as  soon  as 
possible,  yet  his  innate  sense  of  delicacy  and  respect  for  the 
sorrows  of  the  family  held  him  back  from  making  any  prop- 
osition upon  the  subject  of  his  marriage  with  Ella  Shelton 


:  THE    ABOLtTIONTST    AND    TITE    LAND-PIRATE.  201 

In  truth,  he  was  laboring  under  a  doubt  in  his  own  mind, 
whether,  under  the  circumstances,  it  would  be  proper  to 
allude  in  any  way  to  the  period  when  they  should  be  united 
in  matrimony,  since  the  family  had  been  so  recently  and  so 
severely  afflicted  ;  for  it  might  seem  contrary  to  the  strictest 
rules  of  propriety  to  speak  of  marrying  when  in  the  house 
of  mourning,  and  when  they  had  but  just  returned  from 
burying  the  dead  father  of  his  future  bride. 

And  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  he  thought  their  very  lone- 
liness and  want  of  protection  would  seem  not  only  to  justify 
an  allusion  to  the  subject,  but  even  to  demand  some  change 
in  their  present  mode  of  living.  At  least,  how  much  better 
would  it  be  that  the  marriage  should  take  place  at  least 
early  in  the  spring,  and  then  he  could  be  the  rightful  pro- 
tector both  of  Ella  and  her  widowed  mother.  The  varied 
scenes  of  the  city,  too,  its  refined  and  elegant  society,  the 
kind  and  friendly  reception  which  they  would  not  fail  to 
meet,  and  which  even  the  veriest  stranger  never  fails  to  meet 
in  that  most  hospitable  of  all  hospitable  cities,  the  city  of 
Charleston ;  these  circumstances,  when  weighed  against  the 
loneliness  of  their  present  situation,  ought  surely  to  induce 
Mrs.  Shelton  at  least  to  waive  all  etiquette  or  conventionalism, 
if,  indeed,  such  considerations  could  still  have  any  influence 
upon  her  mind. 

But  when  Herbert,  with  great  embarrassment,  and  after 
several  hours  of  conversation  had  elapsed — conversation 
almost  entirely  in  reference  to  the  virtues  and  many  noble 
traits  of  character  which  had  been  the  property,  in  so  signal 
a  degree,  of  their  dear,  lost  ones — the  husband  and  father, 
the  brother  and  the  son — Colonel  Shelton  and  Langdon— 
when  Herbert  said,  in  one  of  the  intervals  which  will  some- 
times occur,  even  when  we  are  speaking  upon  a  deeply  in- 
teresting topic : 

"My  dear  madam,  I  hope  you  will  not  consider  me  rude 

or  heartless  to  change  a  little  the  topic  of  conversation — 

one  which,  although  deeply  interesting  to  us  all,  is  mourn 
9* 


202  OLD   TONEY    AND   HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

ful  in  the  extreme.  For  how  can  we  feel  otherwise  than 
sad  when  we  recall  so  forcibly  to  mind  how  much  we  have 
lost?  Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Shelton,  for  venturing  to  propose, 
m  some  faint  degree,  to  relieve  the  mournfulness,  or,  rather 
I  should  say,  the  loneliness  of  your  situation,  by" 

Herbert  stammered  and  blushed,  and  finally  added,  "  by 
paying  a  visit  to  Charleston  in  the  spring." 

But  finding  that  Mrs.  Shelton  had  not  understood  what 
he  wished  to  communicate,  he  added,  very  abruptly,  and 
without  further  ceremony  : 

"  In  short,  Mrs.  Shelton,  my  dear  madam,  I  mean  to  sub- 
mit to  your  kind  consideration,  whether  it  would  not  be 
best,  under  the  circumstances,  that  my  dear  Ella  and  myself 
should  be  united  in  the  holy  bonds  of  matrimony  as  soon  as 
possible.  Would  it  not  meet  your  approbation  that  the 
ceremony  should  take  place,  say  early  in  the  spring?" 

"Not  yet,  my  dear  Herbert,"  said  Mrs.  Shelton,  in  kind 
but  anxious  tones  ;  "  not  yet." 

"Surely,  my  dear  madam,  you  are  a  woman  of  too  much 
good  sense  to  be  influenced  by  the  opinions  of  the  world,  or 
to  be  controlled  by  the  fashions  of  the  day,"  said  Herbert, 
rather  hurriedly,  and  in  a  tone  which  sounded  a  little  like 
mortification. 

"  No,  Edgar,  you  do  not  understand  me.  It  is  not  for  the 
world  that  I  care,  but  for  my  poor  negroes.  How  could  I 
leave  them  so  lonely,  with  not  a  white  soul  upon  the  place  ? 
Their  master  dead,  and  their  mistress  gone,  the  poor  creat- 
ures would  feel  utterly  wretched  and  forsaken.  Accus- 
tomed, from  their  youth  up.  to  the  society  and  daily  com- 
panionship of  white  persons,  they  could  never  feel  happy, 
but  would  pine  away  if  they  saw  the  house  shut  up  and  the 
windows  closed,  and  would  think  that  all  that  they  loved  on 
earth  had  deserted  them,  or  were  all  dead.  They  could 
neither  work  nor  play,  if  they  did  not  see  and  know  for 
themselves,  with  their  own  eyes,  that  the  dear  objects  of 
their    love  were   at  their   place   in    their    own    homestead. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-riRATE.  203 

Once  or  twice  in  my  life,  I  have  had  the  painful  trial  of 
only  a  brief  separation,  to  spend  a  summer  at  Saratoga  for 
the  benefit  of  my  health.  And  if  it  was  painful  to  me  then 
— very  painful  to  them — 0 !  how  could  I  wring  their  hearts 
at  a  time  like  this,  by  telling  them  that  early  in  the  spring, 
which  is  close  at  hand,  they  must  lose  their  young  mistress 
for  life,  perhaps,  and  their  old  mistress,  too  ?  for  I  can  not 
separate  from  my  daughter,  Herbert.  I  have  lost  all  else, 
and  I  must  cling  to  her  as  my  last  earthly  hope,  until  the 
grave  shall  close  over  my  old  head." 

"  Nor  would  I  have  you,  by  any  means,  to  forsake  or  give 
up  your  daughter,  madam,"  said  Herbert,  with  much  feel- 
ing, touched  by  the  mournful  sound  and  trcmulousness  of 
Mrs.  Shelton's  voice.  "  In  marrying  Ella,  I  hope  to  gain, 
also,  a  dear  mother,  who  shall  counsel  us  by  her  superior 
wisdom,  and  guide  us  through  life's  pathway  until  we  shall 
gain  experience  and  wisdom  for  ourselves." 

"I  thank  you,  dear  Edgar.  I  knew  that  you  had  a  kind 
heart,  or  I  would  never  have  given  my  consent  to  your 
union  with  my  dear  Ella.  But  just  now  it  is  impossible 
for  both  of  us,  at  least,  to  leave  home ;  and  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  that,  for  the  year  1826,  I  should  remain  with  my 
poor,  grief-smitten  slaves.  Were  I  to  consult  my  own  feel- 
ings, I  should  gladly  leave  this  place  at  once,  where  every- 
thing I  see  will  recall  so  painfully  the  form  of  my  dear 
husband.  But  wait  a  little  while,  dear  Edgar — -just  one 
one  year — the  next  fall,  say.  At  that  time,  I  will  give  my 
full  and  hearty  consent  to  your  union  with  my  daughter ; 
and  I  pray  God  that  nothing  may  occur  to  prevent  it." 

Herbert  started  and  turned  pale,  he  knew  not  why,  as  if 
the  prayer  of  Mrs.  Shclton  had  been  an  imprecation,  or  an 
augury  of  coming  evil. 

"  What  could  prevent  it,  my  dear  madam,"  he  asked, 
eagerly,  and  in  an  excited  manner. 

"Many  things  now  hidden  from  us  could  prevent  it,  my 
dear  Herbert,  if  God,  in  his  mysterious  Providence,  should 


204  OLD  TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

so  determine.  '  God's  ways  are  not  as  the  ways  of  a  man  ;' 
and  even  the  French,  all  atheistic  as  they  are  considered, 
have  a  maxim  which  says  :  '  L1  homme  propose  et  Dieu  dis- 
pose.'1 This  maxim  is,  in  reality,  the  doctrine  of  the  Bible  ; 
for  who  can  contend  against  Jehovah?" 

"  But,  my  dear  madam,  how  is  it  possible  to  suppose  that 
God  himself  would  object  to  or  in  any  way  hinder  a  union 
which  would  be  hallowed  by  the  affection  of  two  loving 
hearts,  and  which  has  received  the  sanction  of  the  parents 
of  both  the  bride  and  the  bridegroom?" 

"I  know  not,  my  dear  Herbert,"  said  Mrs.  Shelton,  with 
a  sigh.  "  A  woman  often  entertains  fears  indefinable  for 
the  future,  without  being  able  to  give  her  reasons.  I  hope 
that  mine  are  only  sickly  vagaries,  which  do  not  proceed 
from  my  instincts,  and  are  not  prophetic  of  evil.  In  truth, 
my  dear  Edgar  " 

She  hesitated,  as  if  afraid  that  she  had,  almost  uncon- 
sciously, said  too  much,  and  added,  hastily : 

"  Excuse  me,  my  dear  Edgar.  My  mind  has  been  fear- 
fully wrought  upon  of  late ;  I  fear  me  that  it  will  be  a  hard 
struggle  to  make  others  cheerful  and  happy,  as  has  been 
my  constant  aim  and  desire  all  through  my  life.  May  God 
give  me  strength,  that  I  may  be  resigned  to  his  holy  will 
under  every  dispensation  that  comes  from  his  holy  hand." 

"  I  trust,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Herbert,  with  much  feel- 
ing, "  that  your  dark  days  are  ended,  and  that  the  rest  of 
your  life  will  be  spent  without  a  cloud  to  overshadow  its 
evening." 

"I  hope  so,  my  dear  Edgar.  But  if  afflictions  should 
come,  let  us  all  strive  to  submit  to  the  will  of  God.  For, 
be  assured,  that  the  afflictions  we  are  called  to  endure  in 
this  life,  are  mercies  sent  in  disguise,  since  they  work  for 
us,  in  the  life  to  come,  c  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory.'  Behind  a  cloud,  black  and  portentous  of 
evil,  is  often  hid  the  smiling  face  of  a  beneficent  Deity. 
Better  far,  that  we  should  be  afflicted  and  purified  in  this 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  205 

life,  rather  than  live  in  seeming  prosperity,  careless  of  eter- 
nity, careless  of  our  soul's  prosperity,  and,  after  death,  to 
merit  the  eternal  wrath  of  a  neglected,  and  insulted,  and 
justly  indignant  God.  The  man  unblessed  by  a  single 
affliction — the  man  who  has  been  cursed  with  never-failing 
prosperity  and  invariable  success — the  man  who  can  boast 
that  everything  prospers  in  his  hands,  and  not  anything  he 
attempts  comes  to  naught,  and  whose  every  wish  is  gratified 
— who  can  say,  I  have  had  no  losses  nor  crosses,  and  know 
nothing  of  what  is  called  the  displeasure  of  God — who  has 
never  felt  the  rod  of  his  chastisement  laid,  however  lightly, 
in  love,  upon  his  shoulders,  such  a  man  -is  like  one  standing 
upon  a  mighty  mountain-glacier,  which  will,  one  day,  become 
an  avalanche,  to  slide,  with  awful  velocity  and  fearful  destruc- 
tion, his  immortal  soul  into  hell.  My  dear  children,  let  me 
entreat  you  both,  in  your  coming  life,  never  to  murmur  at 
the  chastisements  of  your  heavenly  Father ;  but  ever  to 
remember,  under  every  trial  and  every  affliction,  however 
appalling,  that  '  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and 
scourgeth  every  son  whom  he  receive th.' ' 

This  sounded,  to  the  ears  of  the  Charlestonian,  like  very 
strange  philosophy  ;  but  he  remained  silent,  and  pondered 
upon  the  words  of  the  Christian  woman,  amazed  that  she 
could  speak  thus  when  her  own  heart  had  been  so  hardly 
wrung  by  such  severe  mental  anguish. 

But  the  time  came  when  Herbert  felt  that  it  was  neces- 
sary that  he  should  depart ;  and,  rising  from  the  sofa  upon 
which  he  was  seated,  he  took  Mrs.  Shelton's  hands  in  his 
and  attempted  to  say  farewell  in  words,  but  his  lips  quiv- 
ered, and  his  tongue  trembled  so  that  he  could  not  articu- 
late a  syllabic,  for  his  heart  was  full,  and  just  then  a  passing 
cloud  threw  its  shadow  between  them,  and  rested  upon  the 
pale  forehead  of  the  widow.  Herbert  was  not  usually  su- 
perstitious, or  given  to  gloomy  forebodings,  but  he  shud- 
dered then  as  though  a  bird  of  evil  omen  had  flitted  between 
them ;  and  a  painful  presentiment  kept  crowding  and  pressing 


206  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

itself  into  his  mind,  that  that  noble  woman,  so  brave  under 
trials  beneath  which  stern  and  manly  hearts  would  quail — • 
that  there  were  darker  days  in  store  for  her,  and  that  when 
they  met  again  it  would  not  be  in  joy,  but  in  great  sorrow, 
and  tribulation,  and  anguish.  And  he  almost  said  aloud, 
"  What  is  it  ?  where  is  it  ?  "  but  he  smiled  at  himself,  and 
thought  he  was  foolish  to  anticipate  troubles  which  might 
never  come.  Then  he  bowed  his  head  low  over  Mrs.  Shel- 
ton's  hand,  and  kissed  it.  She  felt  deeply,  and  appreciated 
his  kind  intention ;  and  before  he  raised  his  head  again  she 
had  pressed  a  mother's  kiss  upon  his  forehead.  When  he 
lifted  his  eyes  to  hers,  and  saw  that  they  were  full  of  tears, 
he  bowed  his  head  again  and  tried  to  smile  a  smile  of  hope ; 
but  his  lips  knew  not  how  to  mock  his  heart,  so  full  of  sor- 
row and  foreboding. 

Little  Fetie  was  still  with  the  family,  as  she  was  nearly 
all  the  while  ;  and  Herbert,  when  he  took  her  by  the  hand, 
stooped  low  and  affectionately  kissed  the  blind  girl  upon 
her  cheek.  His  actions  were  all  very  graceful  and  noble, 
because  so  simple,  and  unaffected,  and  natural.  When  he 
came  to  Ella  and  took  her,  last  of  all,  by  the  hand  also, 
his  knees  trembled  until  they  smote  together  several  times, 
and  it  required  all  the  strength  of  resistance  of  which  his 
strong  nature  was  capable,  to  control  the  agitation  which 
had  well-nigh  completely  unmanned  him.  And  the  sight 
of  his  agitation,  which,  for  a  moment,  was  so  powerful  and 
so  apparent  to  others,  overcame  the  young  and  loving  maiden 
so,  that  even  the  presence  of  her  dignified  old  mother  could 
not  restrain  her  actions.  The  spectacle  of  her  lover's  sor- 
row, the  sight  of  tears  upon  his  manly  cheeks,  overcame 
her  so  that  she  threw  herself  with  passionate  weeping  upon 
his  breast.  And  as  she  clung  fondly  with  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  and  seemed  to  feel  that  this  was  their  last  meet- 
ing on  earth,  Herbert  felt  that  he  would  be  willing  that  they 
should  die  thus  in  each  other's  embrace ;  for  then  the  evil  days 
would  never  come,  or,  coining,  they  would  reck  them  not. 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  207 

Mrs.  Shelton  did  not  do  as  some  prudish  or  stately  mothers 
would  have  done  under  precisely  similar  circumstances.  She 
did  not  charge  her  daughter  with  indelicacy,  nor  reprove 
her  for  a  want  of  maidenly  reserve.  But  she  did  as  a  sensi- 
ble mother  would  have  done,  she  let  her  daughter  weep, 
for  several  minutes,  upon  the  breast  of  her  noble  lover,  that 
her  surcharged  soul  might  find  relief;  for  she  well  knew 
that  her  heart-strings  had  been  made  so  tense  from  suffer- 
ing of  late,  that  those  tender  cords  must  snap  asunder  if 
not  relaxed  by  weeping.  She  let  her  weep,  therefore,  just 
when  she  was  in  the  arms  of  her  lover,  that  her  agony  might, 
in  a  measure,  be  overcome  by  the  flowing  of  her  tears  in 
copious  showers,  and  her  heart  be  made  strong  by  feeling 
the  strong  and  man-like  throbbings  of  Herbert's  noble  heart 
beating  in  sympathy  and  love.  And  her  heart  caught  the 
tone  of  his,  and  the  hearts  of  the  two  lovers  beat  in  unison. 

By-and-by  Ella's  sobs  were  hushed,  and  her  chest  heaved 
no  more,  and  she  became  as  still  as  an  infant  that  has  sobbed 
itself  to  sleep  upon  its  mother's  breast.  She  raised  her  head, 
and  looking  up  into  Herbert's  eyes  as  he  looked  down  upon 
her  with  eyes  beaming  with  affection,  while  his  hand  rested 
upon  her  beautiful  head  rather  as  the  hand  of  a  fond  hus- 
band about  to  leave  his  home  for  some  distant  land,  and 
blessing  thus  his  faithful  wife,  than  of  the  lover  only,-  who 
vows  in  his  heart  to  love  and  to  cherish  his  affianced  bride, 
Ella  smiled  hopefully  and  said  : 

"  After  a  storm,  Herbert,  comes  a  calm.  Let  us  hope  in 
God.     All  that's  well  shall  end  well." 

Herbert  tried  to  speak,  but  his  lips  only  murmured  in- 
articulate words,  and  Mrs.  Shelton  took  her  daughter  by  the 
hand  and  led  her  back  to  the  sofa. 

"  Go  now,  my  dear  Edgar,  and  may  God  be  with  you," 
she  said.  "  In  a  little  less  than  one  year's  time  I  hope  Ella 
shall  be  yours  in  name  as  she  is  yours  in  spirit ;  and  may 
the  good  Lord  bless  you  both,  is  the  prayer  of  your  widowed 
mother." 


208  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  J 

Herbert  felt  that  he  could  stay  no  longer,  and  that  their 
hearts  would  only  be  wrung  afresh  by  the  torture  of  another 
leave-taking.  He  turned  away  sadly  and  with  a  heavy  heart, 
and  went  out  of  the  room,  closing  the  door  after  him  as  softly 
as  though  he  was  leaving  a  sick-chamber ;  then,  with  hurried 
footsteps,  he  reached  the  little  gate  of  the  flower-garden, 
and,  vaulting  into  the  -saddle,  he  put  spurs  to  his  already - 
anxious  and  mettlesome  horse,  and  sped  as  an  arrow  from 
the  sight  of  her  whom  he  loved  best  on  earth.  As  loth 
as  he  had  been  to  leave  the  beloved  object  of  his  heart's 
affections,  now  that  their  adieus  had  been  told,  in  actions 
if  not  in  words,  in  proportion  was  he  anxious  to  dash  for- 
ward at  the  mad  rate  of  the  whirlwind's  march.  There  were 
no  railroads  in  those  days  ;  and  if  there  had  been  even  a 
stage,  it  would  have  lumbered  on  too  slowly  for  the  excited 
state  of  his  feelings.  The  horse,  under  whip  and  spur,  was 
the  best  agency,  then  as  now,  which  could  be  employed  to 
calm  down  the  overwrought  feelings  of  a  man's  overwrought 
heart. 

If  we  could  follow  on  after  him  we  should  see,  that  after 
a  reasonable  time,  the  man  of  prudence  and  forethought  has 
recovered  his  outward  equanimity ;  and  that,  reining  in  his 
horse,  he  allows  him  to  take  the  usual  pace  of  an  animal 
which  has  a  long  and  wearisome  journey  to  perform. 

While,  therefore,  Mr.  Herbert  is  performing  this  journey 
toward  Charleston  at  a  much  more  leisurely  pace  than  when 
he  left  the  house  of  Mrs.  Shelton,  let  us  also — the  reader 
and  the  author — take  a  journey  toward  the  North  ;  for  there 
lie  scenes  which  we  must  look  at,  and  there  are  other  per- 
sons with  whom  we  must  become  acquainted,  before  we  can 
know  the  denouement  of  our  story. 


BOOK   II. 


CHAPTER  I. 

FEW  years  prior  to  the  commencement  of  our  nar- 
rative there  was  an  ill-assorted  match  in  the  city  of 
New  York.  Anna  Moultrie  was  the  only  daughter 
of  very  wealthy  and  refined  parents,  who  died  a  short 
time  before  their  idolized  child  had  attained  the  age 
of  womanhood.  Gay,  fashionable,  and  highly  accomplished, 
she  drew  a  long  train  of  admirers  after  her,  and  foremost 
among  them  was  the  Hon.  George  Williston,  member  of 
Congress.  He  was  a  man  of  fair  but  not  extraordinary 
talents;  but  possessing  considerable  money  himself,  and 
being,  withal,  a  successful  politician,  he  was  thought  at  that 
time  to  be  just  such  a  man  as  the  refined  and  the  wealthy 
Anna  Moultrie  should  marry.  But  he  was  not  the  refined 
and  generous  spirit  which  she  needed  in  the  loneliness  of 
her  orphanage  to  make  her  happy.  It  was,  therefore,  only 
by  the  persuasion — much  persuasion  of  mutual  friends — 
that  she  consented  to  become  his  wife ;  and  in  doing  so, 
there  was  a  half-cheerful  assent,  for  her  heart  was  as  yet 
intact;  she  had  never  met  the  man  whom  she  could  say 
she  loved  with  all  her  heart. 

In  marrying  Mr.  Williston,  there  was  no  attempt  made  to 

(200) 


210  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

deceive  him  on  the  part  of  Anna  Moultrie,  who  really  thought 
that  in  consenting  to  become  his  bride,  she  would  honor 
him  with  the  pure  love  of  a  virtuous  wife.  But,  alas  !  how 
sadly  deceived  are  sometimes  the  purest  in  heart,  and  how 
much  woe  is  the  result  of  indiscretion  !  An  ill-assorted 
match  !  a  marriage  union  without  love  !  Ah  !  the  heart 
aches  ;  the  mental  anguish,  the  hopeless  cries  of  the  unsat- 
isfied heart. 

When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williston  went  to  Washington,  they 
soon  became  objects  of  attention,  and  crowds  of  admirers 
flocked  to  their  soirees,  which  were  said  to  be  the  most 
entertaining  of  any  in  that  most  agreeable  and  fascinating 
city.  The  elite  of  the  country  were  there.  Lords,  and 
counts,  and  noble  embassadors  of  every  land  sought  with 
pleasure  the  halls  of  fashion  and  elegance  where  the  beau- 
tiful and  elegant  Mrs.  Williston  ruled  as  queen  beyond 
dispute,  and  where  there  was  not  a  rival  to  challenge  her 
imperial  sway.  The  second  winter  came  and  went,  and  then 
the  third,  and  still  the  parties  given  by  the  Willistons  of 
New  York,  were  all  the  rage  at  Washington ;  while  the 
young  married  woman,  although  a  few  years  older,  and 
although  she  had  given  birth  to  a  son — a  beautiful  little 
boy — instead  of  having  lost  any  of  her  attractions,  had 
become  more  lovely,  more  fascinating  in  her  manners  and 
conversation.  If  the  old  and  experienced  statesman  sought 
an  opportunity  to  linger  a  few  moments  by  her  side,  and 
if  the  old,  weather-beaten,  war-wrinkled  heart  of  the  veteran 
soldier  was  made  to  expand  and  smooth  out  some  of  its  old 
wrinkles,  whenever  the  musical  laugh  of  Mrs.  Williston  was 
heard  floating  through  the  crowded  saloon,  surely  the  young 
and  the  single-hearted  may  be  excused  from  bowing  down 
as  devotees  at  the  shrine  of  her  matchless  elegance  and 
beauty.  But  to  all  such  as  these  her  conduct  was  circum- 
spect ;  and  although  her  manner  was  not  repulsive  to  those 
sincere  admirers  who  would  have  given  their  all,  perhaps, 
for  a  single  smile  of  love  in  return  for  their  devotion,  yet 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  211 

she  held  them  at  a  respectable  distance,  compelling  them 
to  worship  her  afar  off,  as  a  goddess  whose  radiant  glory 
they  could  look  upon,  but  whose  drapery  they  could  not 
touch. 

There  was  one  young  man,  however,  a  member  of  Con- 
gress, Hon.  Julius  Sanford,  of  Boston,  who  gradually  ap- 
proached nearer  the  shrine  behind  which  shone  the  radiant 
glory  which  had  dazzled  his  eyes  and  bewildered  his  imagina- 
tion. Mr.  Saniord  was  a  young  man  of  about  thirty,  pos- 
sessing brilliant  talents,  consummate  skill  in  oratory,  and 
by  some  he  was  called  "the  lion  of  the  House  ;"  for  upon 
him  all  eyes  would  be  turned  wherever  he  went,  and  never 
did  he  attempt  to  speak  without  enchaining  the  attention 
of  his  audience.  He  was  an  honest  and  a  sincere  man  in 
all  the  relations  of  life.  Sincere  even  in  his  politics,  he 
could  not  be  otherwise  than  sincere  in  his  friendships.  He 
reckoned  his  friends  not  by  hundreds,  but  by  thousands  ; 
not  among  Northern  members  only,  but  among  the  warm- 
hearted sons  of  the  sunny  South.  But  although  a  scholar, 
and  an  orator,  and  a  statesman,  he  was  but  a  mere  mortal 
at  last,  and  could  love  as  only  a  sincere-hearted  man  can 
love.  His  heart,  hitherto  intact,  had  never  been  touched 
with  the  fire  of  love  until  he  beheld  the  beautiful  Mrs. 
Williston  ;  and  when  he  discovered  the  fact,  alas  !  too  late 
for  his  own  or  her  happiness,  he  sought  to  tear  himself 
away  from  the  society  of  a  beloved  being  whom  he  could 
no  more  approach  and  be  innocent.  In  his  conception,  and 
with  his  lofty  ideas  of  honor,  the  marriage  wall  could  not 
be  scaled,  for  it  reached  upward  to  heaven,  and  God  him- 
self stood  upon  its  parapet,  with  his  flaming  sword,  to  smite 
down  the  bold  intruder  who  should  attempt  to  blight  the 
lmppiness  and  mar  the  peace  of  the  slumberers  within  the 
hymenial  circle. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  youthful  statesman,  with  a  deep-drawn 
sigh,  as  he  sat,  one  winter  night,  at  his  writing-desk,  with 
his  massive  head  buried  in  his  hands,  thinking  of  her  upon 


212  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

whom  lie  began  to  reflect  that  it  was  sinful  and  dangerous 
to  think  or  to  look  upon  any  more.  "  I  must  not  see  her 
again  ;  I  had  better  write  !  But  how  can  I  resist  her  appeal  ? 
Let  me  read  her  note  once  more!" 

*He  took  up  the  little  gilt-edged  note,  sealed  with  a  pink- 
ish sealing  wax,  upon  which  had  been  stamped  the  coat-of- 
arms  and  the  initials  of  Anna  Williston.  He  had  been 
careful  not  to  injure  the  stamp,  and  had  cut  the  paper  around 
it  with  his  pen-knife.  He  looked  upon  it  with  a  sparkling 
eye,  and,  turning  the  letter  over,  gazed  with  rapture  upon 
its  face  wherever  his  own  name  was  inscribed  by  the  hand 
of  her  whom  he  adored,  but  into  whose  presence  he  could 
come  only  as  a  goddess  whose  glory  was  impanneled  and 
protected  by  the  cold  and  forbidden  bars  of  the  marriage 
relation.  Her  husband,  it  was  true,  did  not  appreciate  the 
prize  he  had  so  easily  won.  He  had  married  her  for  her 
gold,  and  had  never  sought  to  win  her  love;  but  he  was 
her  husband!  and  "husband,"  he  thought,  is  a  holy  name! 
But  then  the  reflection  came  to  his  mind,  and  he  said  aloud, 
with  his  teeth  hard  set  against  each  other,  while  his  brilliant 
eyes  dilated  and  flashed  with  indignation  : 

"  Yes,  if  he  were  indeed  a  husband  !  But  with  what  cruel 
neglect  does  he  treat  a  lovely  woman,  who  sighs  in  secret, 
all  unconscious  of  the  fact,  for  a  mate  who  can  appreciate 
her  loveliness  and  her  worth !  The  cold-hearted  villain  ! 
He  does  not  even  attend  to  his  duties  in  the  House,  but 
vacates  his  seat  continually,  to  visit  the  gambling-saloons 
and  bar-rooms  of  the  city,  and  thus  dishonors  not  only  his 
state  and  his  country,  but  his  adorable  wife !  Wife !  She 
is  none  of  his !  God  could  never  have  sanctioned  such  a 
union,  which  could  only  have  been  consummated  by  the  vile 
intrigues  of  Mammon's  slaves  !  Accursed  be  they  who  bind 
the  virgin  heart  of  innocence  and  purity  to  the  hellish  car 
of  lust,  or  fetter  the  free  spirit  with  chains  of  gold  and  sil- 
ver !  They  may  cause  a  splendid  alliance,  but  they  intro- 
duce into  society  splendid  misery,  and  wrap,  with  a  gilded 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  213 

shroud,  a  dead  heart  with  withered  hope.  Sad  it  is  to  see  the 
infant  corpse  whose  brow  is  decked  with  a  garland  of  green 
leaves  and  fresh  roses,  because  the  leaves  and  the  flowers, 
by  their  very  freshness,  remind  us  more  forcibly  of  the  fact 
that  the  loved  one  lying  in  the  coffin  is  withering  and 
perishing  away  even  faster  than  the  rose  which  has  been 
plucked  from  its  stem.  But  sadder  still  to  see  the  young 
and  lovely  bride,  all  bedecked  and  spangled  with  golden 
stars  and  gilded  marriage-wreaths,  when  her  young  heart 
has  been  unpledged  to  a  monster  who  claims  all  the  right 
of  the  husband,  but  acknowledges  none  in  return  to  the  wife. 
Williston  is  a  scoundrel ;  for  he  not  only  drinks  and  gam- 
bles— not  only  neglects  the  society  of  his  wife,  and  leaves 
her  to  the  care  of  others,  but  even  seeks  that  of  strange 
women  !     And  were  it  not  for  the  beauty  and  intelligence 

of  Anna Ah !   bless  the  angel  woman !  she  loves  me, 

though  she  herself  knows  it  not!  No!  She  intended  these 
lines  simply  as  a  sisterly  rebuke — to  chide  my  absence  and 
withdrawal  from  her  society!  nothing  more.     She  says  only : 

"  '  How  can  you  be  so  cruel,  my  dear  Sanford,  as  to  tear  yourself 

away  from  my  presence  these  three  whole  days,  without  coming,  for 

even  a  single  moment,  to  say  "Good-evening,"  or  to  wish  me  pleasant 

dreams  for  the  night?     Ah!  if  you  knew  how  very  agreeable  you 

are,  and  how  happy  you  make  me  whenever  you  are  near,  and  how 

utterly  wretched  and  lonely  I  feel  when  you  are  absent,  you  would 

not  stay  away  so  long.      You  know,  my  dear  Julius,  that  I  have 

never  had  a  brother  or  sister  to  love,  and  you  have  taught  me  to 

love  you  as  an  adopted  brother.     Can  you  not  come  to  your  sister 

now  ?     I  feel  very  sad  and  lonely,  for  Mr.  Williston  is  seldom  at 

home,  and  I  have  no  one  to  talk  to.     Come. 

"  '  Yours,  ever  truly, 

"  '  Anna  W .' 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Sanford,  with  energy,  striking  his  hand 
upon  the  table,  ".I  will  go,  if  only  to  tell  her  that  I  love 
her  more  than  life  itself,  and  then  to  leave  her  forever,  to 


214  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

wander  in  unknown  lands,  where  none  can  have  the  right 
to  pry  into  the  grief  of  the  stranger." 

He  took  his  hat  and  cane  and  walked  out  into  the  cool 
air,  and  as  he  drew  nearer  the  residence  of  the  Willistons, 
his  heart  beat  quicker,  so  quick  and  hard  that  its  throbs 
became  painful,  and  he  stopped  still  to  reflect  upon  his 
situation. 

"  Let  Hie  consider,"  said  he  to  himself;  "  mine  is  a  hope- 
less situation ;  for  I  love,  and  I  fear  that  I  am  loved  in 
return,  by  a  married  woman — a  wife  !  0,  God  !  mine  is  a 
hard  case  !  I  could  brave  it  better  if  my  love  were  unre- 
quited ;  for  then,  in  secret,  I  would  nurse  the  wound  in  my 
heart,  and  no  human  eye  should  ever  look  upon  its  festering. 
But  Anna !  poor,  wounded  dove  !  she  is  like  a  mourning 
turtle  mated  to  a  kite ;  and  to  tear  her  from  his  cruel  tal- 
ons would  only  cause  misery  and  death.  Better  to  let  her 
die  under  the  grasp  of  the  tyrant,  than  to  see  her  all  mangled 
and  torn  by  any  attempt  to  rescue  her  from  her  forlorn  sit- 
uation. No,  no  !  cruel  and  unmanly  would  be  the  wretch 
who  should  tempt  her  to  fly  with  him  from  a  husband, 
however  hateful ;  for  then  the  holy  name  of  wife,  which 
she  bears  so  nobly,  like  a  martyr  now,  would  be  sacred  no 
longer,  and  her  lover  would  become  dishonored  as  her 
paramour.  0,  God  !  forbid  it !  Stamp  the  wretch  with 
eternal  infamy  who  would  sully  the  fair  fame  and  dishonor 
the  woman  whom  he  loves,  because  she  trusts  to  his  love 
and  his  honor  !  " 

Sanford's  heart  beat  slower  now.  He  raised  himself  to 
his  full  hight  as  he  felt  within  him  the  lofty  thoughts  of 
the  high-born  soul.  He  felt  conscious  that  he  was  an  hon- 
orable gentlemen,  and  that  the  villain's  brand  could  never  be 
stamped  upon  his  forehead.  He  passed  his  hand  over  his 
brow,  slowly  and  deliberately,  as  if  feeling  for  the  villain's 
brand.  He  felt  conscious  that  God  had  never  stamped  it 
there ;  and  he  was  resolved  that  his  conduct  should  never 
merit   the   villain's  or  the   traitor's  doom.      He  loved   an- 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  215 

other's  wife,  it  is  true ;  but  he  would  die  to  defend  her 
honor  as  soon  as  he  would  her  person.  He  would  never 
deflour  the  dear  object  of  his  heart's  idolatry;  and  he  felt 
his  arm  grow  strong  to  strike  down  her  betrayer — his  heart 
nerved  with  a  brother's  love.  He  moved  forward  slowly 
and  with  solemn  tread,  rather  like  a  man  marching  to  a 
funeral  than  a  lover  hastening  to  his  trysting-place.  He 
reached  the  door  of  Mr.  Williston's  residence  and  raised 
the  brass  knocker,  but  he  gave  no  rap  ;  for  the  door  stood 
ajar,  and  was  pulled  back  by  the  hand  of  the  dear  being 
whom  he  loved  only  too  well.  She  had  been  looking  for 
him  with  an  eagerness  which  she  knew  not  how  to  account 
for  to  herself.  She  had  not  stopped  to  inquire  into  or 
analyze  'her  feelings.  She  only  knew  that  Sanford  was 
very  dear  to  her,  and  that  she  was  happy  only  in  his  pres- 
ence. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  my  dear  Sanford,"  said 
she.  "  I  was  looking  for  you,  and  felt  sure  that  you  could 
not  resist  my  appeal,  nor  treat  me  longer  with  such  cruel 
neglect." 

Sanford  made  no  reply  to  her  salutation,  but  took  her 
hand  in  his  and  pressed  it  tenderly.  Her  hand  was  very 
cold,  and  he  felt  like  warming  it  in  his,  with  something  of 
that  feeling  of  the  parent-bird  when  she  covers,  with  her 
wing,  the  young  fledgeling  that  has  strayed  from  her  side  and 
returned  to  its  mother's  nest  benumbed  with  cold.  He  led 
her  gently  from  the  dim  passage  into  the  brighter  light  of 
the  parlor,  and  drew  her  to  the  sofa ;  seating  her  by  his 
side  as  a  brother  who  feels  very  sad  and  mournful  because 
he  is  about  to  leave  a  beloved  sister,  and  travel  far  away 
into  untrod  and  savage  land.  There  was  a  deep  melan- 
choly upon  his  brow,  which  sat  there  as  the  shadow  of  the 
cloud  upon  his  heart.  So  mournful  was  the  expression  of 
his  countenance,  that  Mrs.  Williston  felt  her  heart  throb- 
bing with  painful  sympathy  for  the  man  she  loved,  but  did 
not  know  it.     She  placed  her  left  hand  upon  his  shoulder, 


216  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

and  looked  into  his  sad  eyes  with  an  earnest  appeal  for  his 
confidence  and  trust  in  her. 

"Tell  your  sister,"  said  she,  with  a  tremulous  voice,  "tell 
your  sister  what  is  the  matter." 

Sanford  could  not  make  any  response  to  this  appeal,  for 
there  was  a  mighty  struggle  going  on  within  him.  His 
strong  and  manly  frame  became  almost  convulsed  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  but,  with  a  mighty  effort,  he  subdued  the  emotions  of 
his  soul,  so  that  she  felt  only  the  tremulous  movements  of 
his  hand,  which  became  steadier  as  he  grasped  hers  with  a 
tighter,  steadier  grasp.  His  silence  and  evident  emotion 
excited  still  more  the  sympathy  of  the  beautiful  young  wo- 
man, whose  head  moved\mconsciously  still  closer,  until  her 
fragrant  breath  fanned  his  fevered  cheek,  as  a  zephyr,  loaded 
with  the  sweet  fragrace  of  odoriferous  shrubs  and  flowers, 
wafted  from  fairy  gardens.  He  felt  then  like  clasping  her 
to  his  bosom,  and  kissing,  with  rapture,  those  ruby  lips, 
which,  gently  parting,  revealed  the  pearly  whiteness  of  her 
beautifully-formed  teeth.  As  those  beautiful  black  orbs  of 
hers  were  turned  upward,  and  gazed  so  tenderly  into  his ;  as^ 
her  soft,  delicate  hand  rested  confidingly  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  her  sweet  breath  blew  upon  his  cheek,  it  required  all 
the  moral  and  mental  control  of  a  strong-minded  and  upright 
man  to  command  the  feelings  by  which  he  was  almost  over- 
mastered. But  he  succeeded  sufficiently  to  sit  still  and 
motionless  as  a  statue,  but  with  the  mournful  look  of  the 
lifelike  portrait  whose  eyes  only  seem  to  move  and  whose 
chest  to  heave,  as  if  with  the  suppressed  emotions  of  a  brave 
but  suffering  heart. 

"  Do  not  look  upon  me  so,"  said  Mrs.  "VVilliston,  as  her 
voice  trembled  still  more,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  ; 
"  you  make  me  feel  very  sad,  and  as  I  never  felt  before. 
Speak,  dear  Sanford,  and  tell  me  what  is  the  matter." 

"  Dear  Anna,"  said  he,  sorrowfully,  "I  am  very  sorry  you 
have  asked  again  the  fatal  question.  I  would  have  sat  thus 
in  mournful  silence,  as  when  we  gaze  upon  the  face  of  the 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  217 

dead,  for  the  last  time,  before  the  coffin's  black  lid  hides 
forever  from  our  sight  the  dear  object  we  have  loved  too 
well.  I  would  have  looked  thus  in  mournful  silence  with- 
out uttering  a  word  of  complaint,  and  then  turned  away, 
with  a  bleeding  heart,  to  leave  you  forever." 

"  To  leave  me  ! "  cried  she,  in  alarm,  as  she  started  back 
and  looked  upon  him  with  anguish  depicted  in  her  counte- 
nance. 

"  Yes,  Anna,"  said  he,  in  a  choking  voice,  which  told 
how  deeply  smitten  with  grief  he  was,  "  yes,  I  must  leave 
you  now  and  forever  ;  and" 

"  But  why  should  you  leave  me  ?  what  have  I  done  ? 
what  has  happened  ?"  she  asked,  in  eager  tones.  "  Have  I 
done  anything  to  offend  you,  Sanford,  my  brother?"  she 
sobbed. 

"  Offend  me  ?  No,  no,  dearest  Anna  !  You  could  do 
nothing  to  offend  me.  It  is  because  I  love  you,  and  you 
are  the  wife  of  another.  It  is  because  I  love  you  as  man 
never  loved  a  woman,  and  because  my  love  is  hopeless." 

The  queenly  head  of  Mrs.  Williston  drooped  now  as  it 
never  drooped  before.  She  spoke  not  a  word  in  reply  for 
some  considerable  time.  So  long  did  she  remain  silent  and 
motionless,  that  Sanford  began  to  feel  alarmed  lest  he  had 
deeply  offended  her  by  a  declaration  which  his  own  heart 
already  began  to  condemn  as  unmanly  and  ignoble.  He  was 
relieved  from  his  suspense  by  feeling  the  clutch  of  her 
woman's  hand  upon  his,  as  she  raised  it  upward  with  a 
steady  but  convulsive  energy.  Upon  his  dear  hand  she 
bowed  her  beautiful  alabaster  forehead,  and  held  it  there  so 
hard  that  the  head  of  the  one  seemed  glued  or  nailed  to  the 
hand  of  the  other.  Then  the  words  which  proceeded  from 
her  lips  were  rather  the  sobs  of  a  heart  suddenly  crushed  and 
broken  by  the  unlooked-for  intelligence  that  all  its  bright- 
est hopes  had  been  wrecked  in  a  gulf  of  woe  and  misery. 

"  0  Sanford  ! "  she  sobbed  ;  and  then  pressed  his  hand 
to  her  bosom,  as  if  with  the  hope  that  his  friendly  hand 
10 


218  OLD  TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

and  manlike  power  might  still  the  wild,  and  tumultuous, 
and  painful  throbbings  of  his  anguished  heart.  "  0  San- 
ford  !  would  to  Grod  that  we  had  never  met,  or  had  met 
sooner  !  for  you  are  dear  to  me  also." 

She  could  say  no  more,  for  her  tears  were  running  fast, 
and  her  chest  was  heaving  upward,  as  the  sea  mourning  for 
the  wreck  and  ruin  which  it  has  itself  caused,  and  which 
now  lie  buried  in  its  bosom.  So,  too,  the  human  breast 
must  heave  minutely,  hourly,  daily — ever  heave  with  slow 
and  solemn  movement  over  the  agonized  heart,  wherein  lie 
buried,  from  the  world's  heartless  scrutiny,  wrecked  and 
ruined  hopes,  dead  loves,  and  withered  affections.  Alas  ! 
the  human  heart  is  but  a  sepulcher  to  conceal  our  dead 
loves  or  our  sinful  thoughts.  Poor  wounded  hearts  !  love- 
smitten,  but  without  hope.  The  marriage  altar  stands  be- 
tween you  and  your  love,  call  it  by  as  holy  a  name  as  ye 
may.  Incense  is  burning  upon  that  altar  ;  and  God's  angel, 
with  his  flaming  sword,  guards  the  shrine,  which  ye  can  not 
touch  with  impunity.  You  may  look,  and  kneel,  and  wor- 
ship together,  but  you  may  not  touch  that  altar,  or  hope 
to  overleap  it,  lest  ye  die ;  for  the  incense  burning  upon  it 
is  lighted  by  the  hymeneal  torch,  and  its  flames  rise  high, 
forming  a  wall  of  fire,  which  will  consume  you  with  certainty 
if  you  attempt  to  penetrate  the  wall  which  God  has  raised 
between  the  married  woman  and  her  quasi-lover.  0  !  tell 
me  not  that  such  a  thing  as  Platonic  love  ever  existed,  or 
can  exist,  between  a  mortal  man  and  a  loving  woman,  how- 
ever honorable  or  virtuous.  The  stoic,  whose  heart  is  made 
of  stone,  or  has  become  petrified,  by  habitual  indifference 
to  the  emotions  and  sufferings  of  actual  life  ;  or  the  miser, 
who  is  so  wedded  to  his  gold  that  his  heart  has  dwindled 
and  shrunk  into  dross — hearts  like  these,  not  human,  may 
look  with  indifference  upon  a  weeping  woman,  whose  sobs 
came  upward  from  a  broken  spirit,  like  the  dying  notes  of 
the  organ,  played  upon  by  aerial  hands,  or  touched  plaint- 
ively by  the  fingers  of  the  wind. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  219 

Julius  Sanford,  all  statesman,  and  orator,  and  scholar  as 
he  was,  was  but  a  man — a  mere  man — with  a  noble  hear., 
it  is  true,  but  with  all  the  strong  impulses  and  passionate 
energies  of  a  man  who  could  feel  deeply,  and  love  with  the 
deathless  devotion  of  a  martyr.  When  he  looked  upon  the 
weeping  form  by  his  side,  and  heard  her  sobs,  and  listened 
to  her  low  and  plaintive  wails,  he  forgot  himself,  and  aban- 
doned all  his  high  resolves  ;  for,  in  a  moment,  his  love  was 
clasped  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  to  his  bosom  with  the  feel- 
ing that  she  was  his  own  and  not  another's,  and  that  he,  and 
he  alone,  had  the  right  to  protect  and  defend  her  against  all 
the  world.  It  was  but  a  moment — a  single  moment — that 
Mrs.  Williston  was  clasped  in  the  arms  of  Mr.  Sanford — 
that  her  head  rested  upon  his  palpitating  heart ;  for  she 
drew  herself  away  with  wounded  dignity,  hurt  not  so  much 
with  Sanford  as  with  herself.  But  she  had  not  withdrawn 
herself  from  Sanford's  embrace  in  time  to  prevent  her  hus- 
band seeing  her  in  a  false  j30sition. 

Mr.  Williston  had  just  returned  from  the  gaming-table, 
greatly  irritated  by  his  bad  luck  ;  for,  as  it  subsequently 
appeared,  he  had  lost  his  all.  His  last  stake  that  night  had 
been  the  finishing  stroke  to  his  jeopardized  possessions,  which, 
with  prudent  care  and  management,  might  have  assumed 
princely  proportions — all  hazarded  upon  the  throw  of  the 
die,  or  lost  upon  the  turn  of  a  card.  His  desperation  was 
increased  when  informed  by  one  of  his  wicked  companions 
that  he  had  better  now  return  to  his  home  and  guard  a 
neglected  treasure  there,  lest  his  jewel  should  be  stolen  in 
his  absence. 

This  hint  was  sufficient  to  arouse  the  demon  of  jealousy, 
now  rendered  doubly  furious  by  his  want  of  success  at  play, 
and  the  excitement  of  ardent  spirits.  Imagine,  therefore, 
his  rage  when  he  saw  his  wife  lying  passively  upon  the 
breast  of  Hon.  Julius  Sanford,  whose  head  was  bent  so  low 
that  he  saw  not  the  form  of  the  enraged  husband,  as  he 
stepped  into  the  room,  armed  with  a  stick,  which  he  had 


220  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

snatched  up  from  the  corner.  It  was  Mr.  Sanford's  own 
walking-cane,  which  was  wielded  by  the  enraged  husband,  who 
showered  blows  upon  the  defenseless  head  of  his  victim,  with 
the  determination  to  dash  out  the  brains  of  the  supposed 
libertine,  and  hurl  them  into  the  face  of  the  wife  who  had 
betrayed  him.  Fortunately,  however,  the  stick  was  a  light 
one,  and  did  but  little  injury,  except  to  cut  the  skin  in  two 
or  three  places,  causing  the  red  blood  to  stream  down  upon 
his  cheeks,  and  redden  his  white  shirt-bosom  like  crimson. 

Mrs.  Williston  screamed  aloud  when  she  saw  the  blood, 
and  raised  her  arms  imploringly  toward  her  furious  husband, 
deprecating  his  wrath,  and  imploring  his  mercy  in  behalf 
of  his  victim.  The  only  answer  of  the  brutal  man  was  to 
strike  down  her  uplighted  arm,  and,  with  a  horrid  execra- 
tion, to  call  his  virtuous  wife  an  abandoned  wanton. 

This  was  too  much  for  the  spirit  of  Sanford,  who  felt  now 
that  it  was  his  duty  as  a  man  to  stand  up  in  defense  of  an 
injured  woman,  whether  wife  or  maiden.  He  could  submit 
to  insult,  and,  under  the  circumstances,  even  blows  from  a 
cane;  but  he  could  not  endure  to  see  the  woman  he  loved 
treated  with  indignity  and  loaded  with  opprobrium. 

"  Stop,  sir  !  "  he  cried  in  tones  of  indignation.  "  Another 
word  of  insult  to  that  pure  woman — another  term  of  reproach 
to  her  whom  you  call  your  wife — another  finger  raised  to 
touch  too  harshly  her  delicate  person — and,  by  the  God  who 
made  us  both,  I  will  shoot  you  dead  where  you  stand !  " 

His  hand  was  upon  the  trigger  of  a  small  brass  pistol, 
and  its  muzzle  was  pressed  hard  against  the  temple  of  Mr. 
Williston,  from  whose  hand  the  stick  fell  to  the  floor,  while 
his  arms  fell  motionless  to  his  side.  The  bully  was  effectually 
cowed.  The  pressure  of  the  brazen  muzzle  upon  his  temple 
had  suddenly  cooled  his  excited  passions,  and  driven  away 
the  enraged  demon  which  was  urging  him  on  to  deeds  of 
violence  and  bloodshed.  He  was  afraid  to  move,  lest  San- 
ford might,  indeed,  shoot  him  down  in  his  tracks ;  so  he 
stood  still  and  trembled  like  a  crane.     Sanford   still  held 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  221 

the  pistol  to  his  head,  while  in  slow  and  deliberate  tones 
he  said  : 

"  You  have  wronged,  sir,  an  innocent  woman  and  a  true 
wife;    one   who   has   been   truer  to  you  than  you  deserve. 
What   you  saw  when   you  entered  the  room  was   enough', 
perhaps,  to  excite  your  suspicions  against  her  honor,  and 
arouse   your   indignation   against  my  supposed  villany.     I 
can,  however,  solemnly  assure  you,  as  a  man  of  untainted 
honor,  that   it  has   not   been   the    result  of  any   deep-laid 
schemes  or  plans  matured  in  secret.     It  was  the  accidental 
response  of  two   hearts  for   the  first  time  discoverimr  the 
met  that  they  were  mutually  beloved.     But  it  was  also  the 
farewell !  the  last  and  sad  adieus  of  two  hearts  devoted  to 
each  other,  but  separated  by  the  intervening  obstacle  of  a 
human   monster  called  husband!     She   is    as   pure  and  as 
holy  now  as  ever  she  was,  and  may  God  keep  her  so  always  ! 
Hear  me,  Williston,  at  your  peril  !  for  should  any  evil  betide 
her  from  this  affair,  either  in  person  or  character,  it  were 
better  for  you  a  thousand  times  that  you  were  hurled  from 
the  bights  of  Mount  Athos  into  the  depths  of  the  ocean, 
with  Mount  Athos  itself  tied  around  your  neck  !     Farewell, 
dearest  Anna  !  "  he  added,  mournfully,  as  he  stooped  to  kiss 
her  marble  brow,  for  she  had  fainted  away  and  had  fallen 
upon   the   sofa,   lying  there   pale  and   lifeless  as  a  corpse. 
As  he  leaned  over  the  woman  so  dear  to  his  heart,  some 
drops  of  blood  trickled  from  his  wounds  and  fell  upon  her 
forehead,  as  if  to  baptize  her  with  his  love.     He  did  not 
attempt  to  wipe  away  those  crimson  stains,  but  left  them 
there  as  the  grief-drops  of  his  weeping  heart.     As  he  rose 
erect  again,  he  turned  toward  Mr.  Williston  with  the  authori- 
tative air  and  tones  of  a  potentate  who  would  be  obeyed : 

'  Your  wife,  sir,  needs  attention.  I  leave  her  now  in  your 
hands.  If  I  have  done  you  or  her  any  wrong,  whether 
unintentionally  or  with  design,  I  am  heartily  sorry  for  it. 
At  all  events,  I  stand  ready  to  render  you  any  satisfaction 
which  you  may  i'cel  called  upon  to  require  at  my  hands." 


222  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR. 

He  bowed  low  as  he  spoke,  and  left  the  apartment  in 
possession  of  its  rightful  occupants.  He  returned  to  his 
hotel  by  a  private  entrance,  and  at  a  late  hour  of  the  night 
summoned  a  physician  to  dress  the  trivial  wounds  he  had 
received,  that  they  might  heal  the  more  rapidly.  The  phy- 
sician kept  his  secret,  and  but  for  the  subsequent  indiscre- 
tion, the  baffled  rage,  the  unalloyed  jealousy,  and  drunken, 
diabolical  whims  of  Mr.  Williston,  the  world  would  never 
have  known  that  a  serious  difficulty  had  occurred  between 
the  member  from  New  York  and  the  honorable  member 
from  Boston. 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LANH-riRATE.  223 


CHAPTER   II. 

FEW  days  after  the  occurrences  recorded  in  the  last 
chapter,  Hon.  Julius  Sanford  was  well  enough  to 
resume  his  accustomed  seat  in  Congress.  A  subject 
of  considerable  interest  commanded  the  attention  of 
the  House,  which  was  crowded  with  anxious  auditors  ; 
for  it  was  expected  that  eloquent  men  would  take  the  floor, 
and  that  among  them  Mr.  Sanford  would  appear  conspicuous. 
This  gentleman  rose  from  his  seat  with  the  calm  dignity 
of  a  man  who  felt  the  importance  of  his  mission.  There 
was  no  excitement,  no  bluster  in  his  manner ;  nor  did  he 
attempt  any  oratorical  flights  upon  that  occasion.  His  speech 
was  rather  a  statement  of  facts  from  which  others  might 
draw  their  inferences  and  their  arguments ;  but  his  every 
word  was  listened  to  with  profoundest  attention  and  interest. 
It  was  while  making  a  statement  which  he  said  he  would 
vouch  for  himself  upon  his  own  personal  knowledge,  that 
the  House  was  thrown  into  confusion  by  the  outrageous 
conduct  of  the  member  from  New  York,  Mr.  Williston,  who, 
rising  from  his  seat,  half  drunk,  cried  out,  "  That 's  a  lie ! 

Sanford  is  a  d d  liar  !  " 

This  gross  insult  and  brutal  interruption  would  have 
unnerved  and  so  confused  most  men,  that  they  would  either 
have  been  unable  to  proceed,  or  would  have  left  their  place 
immediately,  resolved  upon  instant  personal  satisfaction. 
As  it  was,  Mr.  Sanford  turned  red  and  pale  by  turns ;  and 
discovering  the  situation  of  his  enemy,  and  conscious  of  his 


224  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

own  superiority,  he  smiled  and  bowed  to  Mr.  Williston,  and 
then  went  on  coolly  with  his  statement  of  facts,  feeling 
satisfied  that  he  had  the  confidence  of  the  Speaker  and 
House  of  Representatives. 

Mr.  Sanford  was  not  a  duelist ;  but  he  had  admitted  there 
were  times  and  occasions  when  he  would  fight ;  that  although 
he  might  bear  much  personal  abuse,  and  submit  to  much 
personal  indignity,  yet  that  sometimes  forbearance  ceases  to 
be  a  virtue,  and  that  of  one  thing  he  felt  certain,  that  he 
would  not  suffer  the  honor  of  his  native  State  to  be  assailed ; 
but  as  David  fought  in  the  duello  with  Goliah,  so,  also,  he 
would  fight  the  enemies  of  his  State  and  country,  be  they 
few  or  many !  This  was  an  error  of  the  head,  however,  and 
not  of  his  heart. 

The  reader  has  seen  that  Mr.  Sanford  was  not  a  coward, 
but  a  brave  and  noble  spirit,  who  verified,  upon  this  occasion, 
the  truth  that  "  Greater  is  he  that  governeth  his  spirit,  than 
he  that  taketh  a  city."  But  the  world  knew  none  of  these 
circumstances,  and  they  could  make  no  allowances  for  the 
man  who  could  tamely,  and  with  a  smile  upon  his  lips, 
submit  to  such  an  indignity  as  the  member  from  New  York 
had  cast  upon  the  member  from  Massachusetts.  The  world 
does  not  know  always  the  motives  which  influence  a  brave 
man's  civil  or  political  actions.  The  world  does  not  know 
that  it  often  requires  a  braver  heart  and  a  more  courageous 
spirit  to  bear  an  insult  than  to  avenge  it ;  to  withhold  the 
hand  rather  than  to  strike  the  death-blow  at  one's  enemy. 
In  Mr.  Sanford' s  case,  while  many  men  would  have  rejoiced 
at  an  opportunity  so  favorable  of  getting  rid  of  a  hated  rival, 
and,  by  a  hostile  meeting,  hope  to  remove  an  otherwise  in- 
surmountable obstacle  to  the  gratification  of  his  desires,  he 
felt  that,  as  an  honorable  man  and  a  philanthropist,  he  ought 
to  endure,  to  the  last  degree  of  provocation,  everything  which 
Mr.  Williston  might  heap  upon  him  in  the  shape  of  oppro- 
brious epithets.  He  had  felt  his  blows — blows  struck  with 
his  own  cane — and  had  not  returned  them.    Why  now  should 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  225 

he  notice  his  insane  abuse?  It  is  true  he  smarted  under  the 
insult  thus  publicly  given  in  the  People's  Hall,  and  in  the 
face  of  the  whole  country.  But  it  was  a  personal  insult, 
and  he  alone  could  know  how  hard  is  was  to  be  borne 
without  in  any  way  attempting  to  resent  it.  Had  the  slander 
been  hurled  at  his  own  native  State  he  would  have  felt  it 
his  duty  to  demand  redress  for  her  wrongs,  or  scathed  with 
his  sarcasm,  and  blasted  with  his  withering  scorn,  the  bold 
blasphemer  of  his  country's  honor.  But,  under  the  circum- 
stances, he  felt  that  the  indignity  was  intended  for  his  own 
person  ;  for  himself  and  not  for  the  State  he  represented. 

Hence  it  was  that  Mr.  Sanford  resolved  to  submit  in 
silence  to  the  insults  of  a  man  whom  he  felt,  in  his  own 
conscience,  that  he  had  wronged,  in  fact  though  not  in  in- 
tention. For,  however  innocently  he  had  gone  to  the  house 
of  Mr.  Williston  on  that  fatal  night,  his  own  conscience 
upbraided  him  for  having  allowed  his  judgment  to  be  con- 
trolled by  his  passions. 

"Why  did  you  allow  yourself,"  his  inward  monitor  often 
asked  him,  "  to  throw  yourself  so  frequently  and  unreservedly 
into  the  society  of  a  lovely  young  woman  who  is  the  wife 
of  another?  Did  you  not  know  that  the  experiment  was, 
at  least,  a  dangerous  one,  and  that,  to  say  the  least,  you 
were  throwing  yourself  into  the  way  of  temptation  ?  And 
on  that  memorable  evening,  why  did  you  not  stay  away  as 
you  had  at  first  determined?  And  when  first  you  felt  your 
heart  draw  toward  the  lovely,  the  fascinating,  the  artless, 
the  glorious  creature,  why  did  you  not  stay  away  altogether? 
why  did  you  not  cease  your  visits  at  once,  before  the  injury, 
now  irremediable,  was  done  ?  before  she  had  learned  to  love 
you,  and  you  had  loved  her  to  madness  ?  0,  Sanford ! 
Sanford  !  see  now  the  woe,  the  untold  misery  which  your 
imprudent  conduct  has  brought  upon  her  and  upon  your- 
self also  !     May  God  help  you  both  to  bear  it !  " 

Such   were   his   thoughts,   and   such    the   motives  which 

restrained  the  hand  of  Hon.  Julius  Sanford,  the  youthful 
10* 


226  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

orator  and  statesman  from  Massachusetts.  But  when  Mr. 
Williston  saw  that  he  bore  so  patiently  the  insult  which  he 
had  so  publicly  offered  him,  and  when  he  had  waited  for 
several  days  in  vain  for  a  challenge,  he  resolved  to  insult 
his  now  hated  rival  still  more  grossly,  for  Williston  began 
to  writhe  under  the  contemptuous  silence  of  his  adversary, 
even  more  than  he  had  done  from  any  other  treatment  or 
injury  which  he  felt  that  he  had  received  at  the  hands  of 
Mt.  Sanford. 

But  now  he  was  still  more  urged  on  by  his  false  friends 
and  advisers,  who  made  him  believe  that  he  was  not  only 
a  very  courageous  man  himself,  but  that  Sanford  was  so 
arrant  a  coward  that  it  was  extremely  doubtful  whether  he 
could  be  made  to  fight  under  any  circumstances,  however 
provoking.  It  was  when  laboring  under  this  opinion,  so 
erroneous,  and  while  his  feelings  were  greatly  excited  by 
the  influence  of  liquor,  that  he  met  Mr.  Sanford,  in  com- 
pany with  several  of  his  friends,  in  front  of  his  hotel.  Wil- 
liston had  his  friends,  or  rather  backers,  with  him  also ;  the 
most  of  whom  were  professional  gamblers  and  genteel  black- 
legs. Without  any  ceremony,  Mr.  Williston  stepped  for- 
ward and  said : 

"  Julius  Sanford,  I  called  you  a  liar  in  the  House  of 
Representatives,  and  you  gulped  it  down  like  a  d  —  d 
coward  !  Now  I  say  that  you  are  not  only  a  liar,  but  a 
scoundrel  !  " 

He  waited  for  a  reply,  but  there  was  no  answer ;  and 
seeing  Mr.  Sanford  remain  perfectly  still  and  erect,  as  a 
king  pelted  by  a  mob,  he  added : 

"And  if  that  does  not  affect  you,  take  that!" 

There  was  a  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  mouth  at  the  time. 
He  took  it  from  his  mouth,  and  held  it  for  a  moment  be- 
tween his  thumb  and  forefinger,  then  threw  it  full  into  the 
face  of  Mr.  Sanford,  squirting  some  of  the  tobacco  juice  into 
his  face  also. 

"There!  d  —  n  you!  swallow  that!"  cried  Williston,  in 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  227 

a  rage;  "all  the  waters  of  the  the  Potomac  can  not  wipe 
that  off!  Nothing  but  my  blood  can  wipe  that  stain 
away ! " 

Mr.  Sanford  took  out  his  pocket-handkerchief  and  wiped 
away  the  foul  stain  of  the  tobacco  juice  from  his  face.  To 
others,  he  seemed  to  be  perfectly  cool,  until  they  saw  his 
lip  tremble  and  his  face  turn  deadly  pale.  He  placed  his 
hand  upon  his  heart  to  still  the  violence  of  its  throbbings, 
and  bowing  to  Mr.  "Williston,  said,  in  low  tones — so  low  that 
they  sounded  rather  like  a  hoarse  whisper : 

"I  will  do  it!"  said  he,  with  a  lip  which  now  curled 
upward  until  it  became  stiff  and  rigid  with  contemptuous 
hatred.  "I  will  do  it!  I  will  wipe  out  the  insult  with  your 
heart's  blood,  as  you  desire  it !  " 

He  turned  away  with  a  lofty  step,  and  entered  his 
hotel.  He  was  followed  by  his  most  intimate  friends,  whose 
feelings  shared  with  his  in  their  indignation  at  the  out- 
rage, which  had  been  so  wantonly  perpetrated  upon  his 
person. 

The  preliminaries  were  soon  arranged  for  a  hostile  meet- 
ing, to  take  place  the  next  morning  before  sunrise.  As  the 
challenged  party,  Mr.  Williston  had  the  choice  of  weapons, 
and  being  a  fine  shot  himself  with  the  rifle  at  sixty  yards, 
he  imagined  that  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  wing  his 
adversary  at  the  first  fire,  and  escape  himself  without  injury. 
But,  unfortunately  for  his  calculations,  Mr.  Sanford  him- 
self was  a  dead  shot  with  the  rifle  at  almost  any  reasonable 
distance  ;  for  he  not  only  possessed  a  keen  eye  and  a  steady 
nerve,  but  he  had  often  practiced  for  amusement  at  a  target, 
contending  that  a  good  citizen  ought  to  prepare  himself 
for  war,  when  his  country  might  require  his  services  against 
the  common  enemy.  In  all  these  attempts  at  target  shoot- 
ing, however,  he  had  never  once  supposed  that  circumstances 
might  arise  when  he  would  be  called  upon  to  turn  that 
rifle  with  deadly  aim  upon  the  body  of  one  of  his  fellow- 
countrymen,  as  a  duelist  in  the  hateful  arena  of  the  duello. 


228  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

He  had  hoped  to  reserve  his  practiced  aim  for  the  time 
when  war's  alarums  should  summon  the  sons  of  liberty  to 
the  defense  of  their  altars  and  their  firesides,  and,  as  free- 
men, to  repel  the  invaders  of  their  country. 

When  Sanford  thought  of  his  novel  situation,  as  he  lay 
that  night  upon  his  bed — when  he  remembered  the  impotence 
of  his  adversary,  and  felt  his  own  superiority  towering  above 
him  in  conscious  intellectual  strength,  as  the  tall  giant  rises 
above  the  insolence  of  the  pigmy,  or  the  lion  listening 
with  cool  scorn  to  the  barks  of  the  cur,  he  said  to  himself: 
"  I  have  changed  my  mind  ;  I  shall  give  him  a  wound  which 
he  shall  remember  to  his  dying  day.  Perhaps,  it  will  do 
the  fellow  good,  and  he,  himself,  shall  say  I  have  shed 
enough  of  his  blood  to  wipe  away  all  the  insults  he  has 
heaped  upon  me  !  " 

Having  satisfied  his  conscience  with  this  reflection,  the 
young  statesman  turned  over  upon  his  side  and  fell  into  a 
quiet  and  refreshing  slumber,  which  lasted  until  an  hour 
before  daylight.  Not  so,  however,  with  Mr.  Williston,  who 
was  up  all  night  with  his  companions,  drinking,  and  smok- 
ing, and  chewing  ;  so  that  when  the  morning  dawned,  instead 
of  being  calm  and  collected,  he  was  nervous  and  fidgety  ; 
in  short,  in  any  other  way  than  the  proper  plight  to  stand 
up  at  sixty  paces  and  be  shot  at  with  a  rifle.  And  besides 
his  physical  derangement,  consequent  upon  a  night  of  de- 
bauchery, his  courage  began  to  flag  in  proportion  as  the 
time  of  hostile  rencounter  drew  near.  For  not  only  did  he 
begin  to  have  misgivings  himself,  but  his  companions  had 
wickedly  played  upon  his  fears,  by  supposing  imaginary 
issues,  and  conjecturing  probabilities  which  might  arise,  and 
casualties  which  might  prove  fatal  to.  himself.  And  some 
went  so  far  as  to  say  that  it  was  a  great  pity  he  had  chosen 
the  rifle,  at  sixty  yards,  for  it  was  currently  reported  and 
believed  that  "  Sanford  was  the  deadest  shot  in  all  Massa- 
chusetts, and  perhaps  in  the  Union." 

It  may  readily  be  supposed,  therefore,  that,  under  such 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-TIRATE.  229 

opposite  circumstances  as  these,  while  Sanford  appeared  upon 
the  ground  as  calm  and  as  cool  as  if  he  had  come  out  to 
enjoy  a  little  target-shooting,  his  antagonist,  Mr.  Willis- 
ton's,  manner  was  agitated  and  greatly  disordered,  insomuch 
that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  take  frequent  drinks  of 
brandy. 

It  was  a  clear,  frosty  morning,  and  the  sun  was  just  ris- 
ing in  the  east ;  but  it  had  not  yet  reached  more  than  half 
way  to  the  tree-tops  which  were  in  Mr.  Williston's  rear. 
The  parties  had  been  placed  east  and  west,  with  design  on 
the  part  of  Williston's  friends,  but  with  no  suspicion  of 
foul  play  on  the  part  of  Sanford's,  who  were  less  experienced 
in  matters  of  dueling. 

"For,"  said  they  in  whispers,  "  let  Sanford  face  the  east, 
and  let  us  make  excuses,  and  incur  delay  until  the  rising  sun 
glances  over  the  tree-tops,  and  glistens  upon  the  sight  of 
his  rifle,  and  then  his  eye  will  become  so  dazzled  by  the 
reflection,  that  he  can  not  see  you  at  ten  paces,  much  less 
sixty  yards.  Then  you  can  shoot  him  down  at  your  leisure, 
as  you  would  a  wild  turkey,  or  a  bullock  tied  to  a  stake." 

They  had  made  their  calculations  well,  but  the  battle  is 
not  always  to  the  strong,  nor  the  race  to  the  swift.  Delays 
had  been  occasioned  ;  full  five  minutes  had  elapsed  ;  the 
sun  was  just  glancing  over  the  tree-tops  in  the  east ;  the 
propitious  time  had  arrived ;  the  parties  were  placed  in 
position.     As  Sanford  took  his  place,  he  said  to  his  second : 

"  I  am  a  dead  shot,  but  I  will  not  kill  him.  That  mur- 
derous right  arm  of  his,  however,  I  mean  to  shiver  up  to 
the  elbow.  That  will  cure  the  gentleman's  mania  for  fight- 
ing, and  convert  a  cowardly  bully  into  a  peaceable  citizen. 
In  this,  my  first,  and,'  I  hope,  my  last  duel,  I  trust  that  I 
shall  render  the  country  a  great  and  signal  service." 

"Are  you  ready,  gentlemen?"  cried  the  second  of  Mr. 
Williston,  who  had  won  the  toss  of  the  half  dollar. 

"Ready,"  was  the  response. 

"Aim!  fire!     One!  two!" 


230  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

The  word  "three"  was  drowned  by  the  sharp  crack  of 
both  rifles,  simultaneously  fired.  Sanford  remained  unharmed, 
with  his  rifle  brought  down  to  a  rest;  but  he  dropped  it  in 
a  moment,  pale  and  trembling  with  agitation,  as  he  saw 
Williston  reel  backward  a  few  paces,  and  fall  heavily  to  the 
earth. 

"Great  Grod  ! "  cried  he,  almost  gasping  for  breath,  "I 
am  afraid  I  have  killed  him,  without  intending  to  do  so. 
The  sun  glanced  and  glistened  so  upon  the  barrel  that  my 
eyes  became  dazzled,  and  I  could  not  see.  I  fired  at  ran- 
dom." 

"  Do  n't  fret  about  it,  Sanford,"  said  his  second,  sooth- 
ingly ;  "  if  the  coward  had  stood  his  ground,  your  ball 
would  have  gone  where  you  sent  it.  But  the  fool  stepped 
out  of  his  tracks  a  little  too  much  to  the  right,  in  order  to 
dodge  your  ball,  and  I  imagine  he  has  got  it  where  you  did 
not  wish  it  to  go,  right  through  his  heart.  It  was  no  fault 
of  yours,  however  ;  he  ought  to  have  stood  his  ground  like 
a  man,  or  not  come  at  all  upon  a  field  of  deadly  risks." 

This  reasoning  did  not  quiet  the  conscience  of  Mr.  San- 
ford, who  began  to  say  to  himself: 

"  I  ought  not  have  accepted  his  challenge.  I  ought  to 
have  treated  his  insults  with  silent  contempt.  Surely  all 
the  opprobrious  epithets  he  could  have  showered  upon  me 
could  never  make  me  a  dishonorable  man  or  a  coward,  if 
I  were  not  so  at  heart.  And  what  matters  it  if  men  call 
us  ill  names,  if  we  do  not  deserve  them,  and  have  the  con- 
sciousness of  rectitude  within  us  ?  And  if  I  were  a  villain, 
could  all  his  heart's  blood  wash  me  clean  ?  No,  no,"  he 
mused  and  groaned  in  spirit,  "  I  ought  not  to  have  come 
upon  the  ground  ;  and  in  doing  so — in  challenging  Wil- 
liston to  mortal  combat — I  am  a  murderer  before  Grod  and 
the  country.  The  brand  of  Cain  is  upon  me,  and  whoso- 
ever of  his  blood-avengers  finds  me,  ought,  of  right,  to  slay 
me." 

As  these  reflections  passed  through  his  mind,  he  had  trav- 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  231 

ersed  the  sixty  yards  which  separated  him  from  his  fallen 
enemy.  Williston's  friends  were  kneeling  upon  the  ground, 
examining  the  wound  in  his  left  breast,  as  Mr.  Sanford  and 
his  party  came  up  ;  but  they  rose  immediately  and  saluted 
them  with  courtesy. 

"  He  is  dead,  gentlemen  !  shot  through  the  heart !  A 
nice  shot,  an  elegant  shot,  Mr.  Sanford,"  said  Williston's 
second,  with  a  very  obsequious  bow,  feeling  greater  admira- 
tion for  the  successful  combatant  than  he  had  ever  felt  for 
the  orator  or  the  statesman. 

Sanford's  only  reply  was  a  deep  groan,  rolling  upward 
from  the  lowest  depths  of  his  heart,  hard,  and  hoarse,  and 
hollow,  like  the  moaning  echo  of  the  vocal  sphynx.  He 
sunk  down  upon  a  bank  of  earth  hard  by,  and  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands.  Conscience,  with  its  scorpion  lash,  was 
flaying  his  naked  soul,  as  the  scalpel  which  lays  bare  the 
heart.  Conviction  of  guilt  was  gnawing,  like  a  fierce  can- 
cer, at  his  very  heart-strings.  His  ideas  were  in  a  whirl, 
and  his  feelings  all  in  an  uproar  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
mental  whirlwind  and  the  spirit-storm,  the  "  still,  small 
voice  of  God"  was  calling  upon  him  to  repent,  and  Jesus 
Christ  himself  whispered  kindly  in  his  ear  :  "  Though  you 
have  done  this,  and  have  sinned  so  much  and  so  greatly, 
come  unto  me  and  be  saved  ;  for  I  will  have  mercy  upon 
whom  I  will  have  mercy." 

The  conversion  of  the  duelist  is  exceedingly  rare.  Their 
consciences  may  be  often  pricked  by  guilt,  but  they  seldom 
repent  of  their  sins.  The  conversion  and  final  salvation 
of  Mr.  Sanford  was  as  remarkable  as  that  of  the  thief  on 
the  cross.  Let  it  encourage  others  not  to  despair,  nor  rush 
into  yet  more  bloody  scenes,  and  commit  yet  darker  crimes, 
until  their  hearts  shall  have  become  seared  and  stultified  ; 
but  let  them  come  to  the  Cross,  their  only  refuge,  where 
the  blood  of  Christ  can  alone  wash  white  and  clean  the 
guilty  hands  which  they  have  dyed  crimson  in  their  brother's 
blood;  for  the  subsequent  career  of  the  Hon.  Julius  San- 


232  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

ford  proves  that  the  mercy  of  God  is  wonderful  indeed,  since 
the  duelist  and  successful  combatant  became  an  humble  and 
a  contrite  spirit,  a  meek  and  lowly  follower  of  "  the  Lamb 
slain  for  sinners." 

It  was  a  strange  time  and  a  strange  place  for  the  conver- 
sion of  a  soul  ;  but  God's  ways  are  not  as  our  ways.  For 
right  there,  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  in  the  presence  of 
his  slain  enemy,  the  Hon.  Julius  Sanford  pledged  himself 
to  serve  his  God  with  all  his  heart,  and  flee  the  devil,  who 
had  caused  him  to  commit  this  great  and  heinous  sin.  When 
he  raised  his  head  again,  all  his  friends  remarked  how  awful 
and  how  awe-inspiring  was  his  countenance  ;  reminding  them, 
in  its  expression,  of  the  poet  Dante's,  of  whom  it  is  said  that, 
when  writing  "  IS  Inferno  "  on  going  into  the  streets  fresh 
from  his  poetical  labors,,  he  used  to  be  followed  by  the  little 
Italian  boys,  who  spoke  in  whispers  :  "  He  looks  like  a  man 
who  has  been  to  hell,  and  has  just  come  back  from  L'ln- 
ferno." 

Somewhat  of  this  feeling  or  superstition  flashed  across 
the  minds  of  Sanford's  friends,  when  they  witnessed,  but, 
in  reality,  knew  not  of  his  conviction ;  but  they  made  no 
remarks,  and  in  mournful  silence  they  all  returned  to  the 
city  of  Washington. 

No  very  great  sensation  was  occasioned  by  the  death  of 
Mr.  Williston  in  social  or  political  circles,  for  he  had  with- 
drawn himself  so  completely  from  them  during  the  last  few 
months  of  his  life,  that  his  place  would  never  be  missed. 
But  great  was  the  sympathy  felt  for  Mr.  Sanford,  upon 
whom  all  knew  that  the  difficulty  had  been  forced  against 
his  will,  and  greatly  to  his  regret,  and  contrary  to  his 
avowed  intentions  had  been  the  result  of  the  rencounter,  so 
fatal  to  his  antagonist.  But  as  deep  as  was  their  sympathy, 
as  sincere  was  their  regrets,  openly  expressed,  not  only  in 
the  streets,  but  in  the  national  councils,  when,  a  short  time 
after  the  duel,  Mr.  Sanford  rose  in  his  place,  and  declared 
it  to  be  his  solemn  determination  to  resign  his  seat  in  Con- 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  233 

gress  at  the  close  of  the  session,  and  that  he  took  this 
opportunity  of  announcing  to  the  Speaker  and  House  of 
Representatives,  that  he  had  already  informed  his  constitu- 
ents at  home  that  he  could  not  be  a  candidate  for  re-election. 
No  persuasion  nor  entreaty  could  induce  him  to  abandon  a 
resolution  thus  deliberately  formed,  and  he  retired  from  his 
seat  in  Congress  with  the  heartfelt  regrets  of  the  whole 
country,  who  thought  that  it  was  a  pity  that  more  men  like 
him  could  not  be  found  —  conservative  in  principle,  and 
patriots  at  heart — to  stand  by  the  Constitution  and  defend 
the  rights  of  the  people  when  invaded. 

Pity,  says  the  reader,  perhaps,  that  Sanford  did  not  re- 
main in  Congress  to  battle  side  by  side  with  such  men  as 
Clay,  and  Calhoun,  and  Webster,  in  after  years ;  we  know 
not;  the  future  shall  tell  whether  it  was  even  a  pity  that 
he  gave  up  his  seat  in  Congress.  Perhaps,  he  had  other 
views  more  congenial  with  his  natural  tastes  ;  perhaps  he 
wished  to  resume  the  practice  of  the  law,  or  pursue  the 
ministry,  or  take  up  with  literary  pursuits,  in  which  he  was 
so  well  calculated  to  distinguish  himself;  and  perhaps  his 
resolution  was  induced  by  another  cause,  which  the  reader 
will  think  more  probable. 

When  Mr.  Williston's  estate  was  wound  up,  or  rather 
when  his  debts  were  all  paid,  it  was  ascertained  that  there 
was  not  a  dime  left,  either  of  his  own  or  his  wife's  prop- 
erty. Mrs.  Williston  was  left,  therefore,  a  young  widow 
with  an  only  child,  almost  helpless,  it  is  true,  but  in  her 
own  mind  resolved  not  to  be  dependent.  Her  friends  in 
New  York  urged  her  to  live  among  them  free  of  charge, 
but  her  spirit  was  too  independent  for  this,  and  she  had 
already  resolved  in  her  own  mind  to  seek  a  home  elsewhere, 
when  her  movements  were  hastened  by  the  sudden  arrival 
in  the  city  of  New  York  of  "  Hon.  Julius  Sanford,  from 
Washington,"  announced  in  one  of  the  morning  papers. 
Mrs.  Williston  immediately  sat  down  to  her  little  portable 
escritoir,  and  penned  the  following  lines: 


234  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

"My  Dear  Sanford: 

"  If  you  love  me,  do  not  seek  me  here  or  elsewhere ;  we  must 
part  forever!  May  God  give  us  grace  and  strength  to  hear  the 
ordeal  which  must  be  for  this  life!  We  can  meet  no  more  on 
earth !     O !  may  we  meet  in  heaven ! 

"Yours,  in  suffering  as  in  love, 

"  Anna." 

Nor  could  he  or  any  of  her  friends  discover  the  course 
she  had  taken,  or  whether  she  had  left  New  York  at  all. 
Henceforth  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  Anna  Williston 
would  be  dead  to  the  world  and  lost  to  her  lover.  In  New 
York  she  could  hide  herself  from  society  and  the  world,  as 
surely  as  in  the  grave.  For  what,  at  last,  is  the  great 
"  Empire  City,"  but  a  huge  mausoleum  to  hide  the  living 
and  the  dead? 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  .235 


CHAPTER  III. 

"f  HE  city  of  Boston  is  a  famous  city,  and  the  State  of 
Massachusetts  has  been,  from  its  earliest  settlement, 
JJ  a  famous  State.  "The  Old  Bay  State"  is  a  name 
^cf  which  has  been  well  appropriated,  because  it  repre- 
sents her  as  a  grand  commercial  harbor  and  emporium 
of  trade  ;  while  from  her  soil  have  sprung  brave  warriors, 
and  great  statesmen,  and  learned  jurists,  and  eloquent  ora- 
tors, and  many  talented  men.  From  her  prolific  womb  have 
sprung  men  of  genius  and  sterling  worth,  such  as  Franklin, 
and  Adams,  and  Webster,  who  have  dazzled  the  world  by 
the  splendor  of  their  genius  and  the  grandeur  of  their  intel- 
lect. But  Massachusetts,  and  Boston  in  particular,  has 
been  famous,  also,  for  many  wonderful  things  which  have 
been  recorded  in  history ;  some  of  which  she  may  point  to 
with  exultant  pride,  while  others  she  must  remember  with 
shame  and  mortification.  For  while  she  still  exults  in  the 
heroism  and  consummate  daring  of  the  men  who  flung  into 
Boston  harbor  the  cargo  of  British  imported  teas,  she  must 
remember,  with  abhorrence,  the  foul  murders  which  were 
committed,  "  in  the  name  and  hy  the  grace  of  God"  upon 
innocent  persons  unrighteously  accused  of  the  sin  of  witch- 
craft; when  many  of  her  most  godly  men  and  loveliest 
maidens  were  led  to  the  stake,  or  swung  from  the  gibbet — 
the  victims  of  the  hatred,  and  malice,  and  vile  calumnies 
of  the  malevolent  and  the  invidious. 

But,  for  our  present  purposes,  Massachusetts  was  famous. 


236  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

or  rather  notorious,  in  nothing  more  than  as  the  birth- 
place of  Alfred  Orton — Rev.  Alfred  Orton,  the  rabid  Aboli- 
tionist— who  did  not  die  a  hero  or  a  martyr,  because  his 
life,  justly  forfeited,  was  given  him  by  a  generous  and  noble- 
hearted  Christian  slave. 

Had  Rev.  Alfred  Orton  lived  in  the  days  of  witchcraft, 
he  would  have  been  foremost  in  denouncing  the  wickedness 
of  those  who  got  "possessed,"  and  in  exorcising  the  im- 
aginary devil,  with  fiery  tail,  and  sharp  horns,  and  cloven 
hoofs,  while  he  would  have  fancied  an  imaginary  diabolical 
tail  sticking  out  from  every  person,  however  innocent,  who 
might  cross  his  pathway  or  interfere  with  his  plans.  Had 
he  lived  at  the  present  day,  he  would  have  been  found  in  the 
camp  of  the  outlaw  John  Brown,  saying  his  hypocritical 
prayers  and  singing  his  psalm-tunes  to  the  Goddess  of 
Liberty ;  denouncing  slavery  as  it  exists  at  the  South,  and 
urging  all,  both  white  and  black,  to  rebellion,  and  recom- 
mending that  they  be  shot  as  traitors  if  they  refused  to 
rally  to  the  standard  of  the  outlaw.  But  if  he  had  lived 
till  that  time,  and  had  been  present  at  Harper's  Ferry,  he 
would  have  been  the  first  man  to  slip  through  a  loop-hole 
when  the  tramp  of  the  "marines"  was  heard,  and  the  cry 
of  the  "  Old  Dominion  "  "  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  "  broke  upon 
the  morning  air.  Then,  it  is  very  likely,  that  had  he  been 
caught  and  brought  back  as  a  fugitive  from  justice,  and 
charged  with  high  treason  against  the  laws  of  Virginia  and 
the  United  States  as  the  infamous  chaplain  of  a.  rebel  band, 
he  would  have  flung  away  his  psalm-book  and  denounced 
the  Bible  as  a  book  of  lies,  and  by  his  oaths  and  blasphe- 
mies proven  to  his  captors  that  a  great  mistake  had  been 
made — that  they  had  captured  not  a  servant  of  the  Lord, 
but  a  servant  of  the  devil  ! 

Mr.  Orton's  hatred  of  the  slaveholder  sprung,  from  his 
college  associations  with  wild,  frolicksome  young  fellows 
from  the  South,  who,  accustomed  to  being  waited  on  and  have 
their  boots  blacked  when  at  home,  liked  to  be  waited  on 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  237 

and  have  their  boots  blacked  when  abroad ;  always  willing, 
of  course,  to  pay  well  for  the  service,  provided  they  could 
enjoy  the  privilege  of  flinging  said  boots  at  the  head  of  said 
boot-black,  whenever  they  felt  disposed  to  enjoy  the  liberty 
of  an  American  citizen ;  i.  e.,  to  do  anything  they  pleased, 
provided  the y paid  well/or  it! 

Mr.  Orton  was  the  college  boot-black  both  for  the  North- 
ern and  Southern  students  ;  and,  in  mentioning  this  fact,  we 
do  not  mean  to  insinuate  that  it  was  any  disgrace  to  him. 
Far  from  it;  for  we  think  it  was  the  only  thing  commend- 
able in  his  character  ;  that  of  striving  for  an  education  by 
the  labor  of  his  own  hands,  even  though  he  had  to  do  so 
by  performing  menial  offices.  But  he  was  essentially  a 
menial  and  a  sycophant.  The  Northern  students  at  Yale 
College  despised  him,  and  the  Southern  boys — the  wildest 
and  most  imperious  of  them — used  to  fling  their  boots  at 
his  head  and  call  him  "boot-black,"  ordering  him,  at  the 
same  time,  to  "go  and  clean  their  boots  better." 

At  such  treatment  he  never  murmured,  provided  he  was 
well  paid  for  the  privilege  of  being  kicked  and  cuffed, 
although,  in  his  heart,  he  hated  the  South,  and  Southern 
students  in  particular,  because  many  of  them  had  the  money 
to  buy  his  silence,  and  make  him  submit  to  their  whims.  But 
the  noblest  of  the  students,  both  North  and  South,  hated  him 
because  they  had  the  best  proof  possible  that  he  was  a  mean 
spy  upon  their  actions — a  hired  one ! — paid  by  some  of  the 
professors  to  report  the  misdemeanors  of  his  fellow-students. 
Thus  it  was,  that  by  blacking  boots  and  shoes,  and  serving 
the  Faculty  in  the  capacity  of  a  secret  monitor,  Alfred 
Orton  paid  his  way  through  college,  and  ultimately  received 
his  diploma. 

But  he  was  a  good  scholar,  an  excellent  linguist  and 
mathematician;  for  he  could  "calculate  like  all  wrath!" 
Indeed,  where  is  there  a  Yankee  from  New  England  who 
does  not  know  how  to  "calculate?"  For  while  the  South 
has  furnished   statesmen   and   orators,    the  North,  or  New 


238  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS    MASTER  J    OR, 

England,  has  produced  mathematicians,  theologians,  and 
metaphysicians.  While  the  climate  of  one  section  is  better 
adapted  to  poetry  and  sentiment — while  from  the  genial 
womb  of  the  South  leaps,  full  grown,  the  poetical  genius 
and  ardent  orator,  (for  must  not  an  orator  be  a  poet  also  ?) 
from  the  cold  and  frozen  soil  of  New  England  rises  slowly 
up  the  cool  logician,  or  the  metaphysical  giant. 

But  Mr.  Orton  was  not  repulsive  in  his  physical  aspect, 
if  he  was  in  his  private  or  personal  character.  He  was  a 
man  of  excellent  exterior,  and  obsequious  manners  ;  capable, 
at  all  times,  of  insinuating  himself  into  the  good  graces  of 
the  stranger,  who  Avould  generally  believe  that  he  was  a 
capital  fellow  until  he  was  found  out ;  but  he  generally 
managed  to  keep  from  being  found  out,  by  having  but  little 
to  do  with  any  one  man.  With  the  women  he  usually  suc- 
ceeded well ;  for  he  had  a  handsome  face,  and  he  well  knew 
it;  for  he  was  frequently  caught  gating  with  rapture  at 
himself  in  the  looking-glass ;  and  such  was  his  vanity,  that 
he  would  have  been  very  much  astonished  to  hear  it  asserted 
that  there  was  a  woman  North  or  South  who  could  resist  his 
personal  attractions.  And,  to  reduce  the  thing  to  a  reductio 
ad  absurdum,  Mr.  Alfred  Orton,  A.  B.,  went  off  immediately 
and  married  the  prettiest  girl  in  Salem ;  and,  in  order  to 
support  her,  he  took  up  preaching  for  a  livelihood. 

Bev.  Alfred  Orton  remained,  however,  but  a  few  years  at 
Salem.  This  hot-bed  of  Witchcraft  and  Abolitionism  would, 
in  the  course  of  time,  have  got  even  too  hot  for  him.  For, 
in  consequence  of  certain  secret  propensities,  he  was  advised 
by  his  father-in-law,  one  of  the  good  deacons  of  the  Church, 
to  leave  Salem  forthwith,  lest  a  certain  affair  should  become 
too  generally  known,  and  his  standing  as  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel,  and  especially  .as  the  deacon's  son-in-law,  should 
become  seriously  injured,  and  his  usefulness  greatly  impaired. 

Acting  under  this  advice,  Bev.  Alfred  Orton  repaired  to 
the  huge  city  of  Boston,  where  his  vices  could  become  swal- 
lowed up  and  his  virtues  shine  more  conspicuously;  where 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  239 

his  father-in-law's  influence  secured  him  a  position  as  a 
pastor  of  a  very  respectable  Church ;  where  he  might  sin 
and  repent  at  leisure ;  where  his  next  door  neighbor  would 
never  hear  his  praying  and  psalm-singing,  unless  he  wished 
him  especially  to  note  the  fact  by  singing  and  praying,  at 
times,  in  an  unusually  loud  tone,  to  let  said  neighbor  know 
that  said  Rev.  Alfred  Orton  was,  just  at  that  particular 
time,  engaged  in  very  devotional  exercises,  prior  to  going 
out  into  the  streets  and  by-lanes  to  engage  in  very  great 
rascalities. 

Mrs.  Orton  had  not  as  yet  discovered,  nor  had  she  ever 
been  informed  of  her  husband's  secret  villanies.  A  cir- 
cumstance which  had  recently  occurred,  however,  had  led 
her  to  suspect  that  there  was  something  wrong — something 
monstrous  in  the  conduct  of  her  husband.  Cute  as  the  fox 
is,  he  is  sometimes  caught  in  the  snare.  As  patient  as  a 
woman  is,  she  can  lose  her  patience,  and  become  irrascible 
and  unkind.  As  confiding  as  a  true  wife  may  be,  she  can 
lose  her  confidence  in  her  husband ;  lose  her  woman's  faith 
and  love,  and  be  filled  only  with  jealousy,  and  hatred,  and 
revenge.  Great  must  be  her  wrongs,  however,  when  she 
discards  from  her  bosom  the  husband  of  her  children,  and 
lifts  the  hand  of  vengeance  against  his  heart.  Look  to  it 
well,  Rev.  Alfred  Orton  !  Mrs.  Orton  may  be  your  Diana 
now !  she  may  one  day  become  your  Nemesis ! 


240  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  ]    OR, 


CHAPTER   IV. 

fN  one  of  the  loneliest  and  least  frequented  streets  of 
the  city  of  Boston,  and  in  one  of  the  smallest  and 
^^  cheapest  of  low-stooped  houses,  lived  a  poor  widow 
*&  woman,  with  an  only  child — a  little  boy — a  beautiful, 
curly-headed,  black-eyed,  intelligent  little  fellow,  of 
about  five  years  old.  The  widow  herself  was  a  lovely  young 
woman,  apparently  not  more  than  twenty-five  or  six ;  or,  at 
least,  so  said  some  of  her  neighbors,  who  had  occasionally 
got  a  glimpse  of  her  features  by  accident,  when  the  wind 
blew  up  her  vail  once  or  twice,  and  exposed  to  their  aston- 
ished view  a  loveliness  almost  unrivaled.  No  one  knew  her 
name  or  her  history ;  but  there  was  such  an  air  of  refine- 
ment about  her,  such  a  queenly  tread  and  imperial  bearing, 
that  those  who  saw  her  come  and  go  thought  that  she  was  a 
woman  who  had  seen  better  days,  and  had  once  moved  in 
the  highest  walks  of  life.  The  few  attempts  at  intimacy 
which  had  been  made  by  some  of  the  prying  women  of  the 
neighborhood  had  been  met  with  such  courtesy,  but  repelled 
with  such  stately  dignity,  that  they  had  begun  to  regard  her 
either  with  hatred  and  envy,  or  with  admiration,  as  an  un- 
approachable queen,  shut  up  in  her  dark  cell,  barred  and 
bolted  from  the  world's  prying  curiosity  by  the  cold,  black 
bars  of  poverty  and  misfortune.  In  her  isolation,  though 
surrounded  by  hundreds  of  the  poor,  who  are  ever  curious, 
and  prying  into  the  secrets  and  misfortunes  of  others,  she 
resembled   the  unfortunate   Marie  Antoinette  when  in  the 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  241 

loneliness  of  the  Conciergerie — her  husband  butchered  al- 
ready upon  the  guillotine,  her  children  torn  from  her  loving 
embrace,  her  darling  boy  daily  sinking  into  idiocy  from  a 
systematic  course  of  brutality — bereft  of  all,  yet  dignified 
and  noble  still — striving  to  hide  from  others  her  great  grief, 
and  refusing  to  answer  the  inquiries  and  gratify  the  imper- 
tinent curiosity  of  her  heartless  jailers. 

Noble  is  the  sight  of  a  woman  stemming  alone,  in  her 
widowhood  and  poverty,  the  tide  of  adversity,  which  bears 
her  further  and  further  from  the  shores  of  life,  every  wave 
beating  her  back  and  back,  ever  backward  and  nearer  to 
the  maelstrom  of  death  from  which  she  struggles  to  escape ! 
Poor,  lonely,  wrecked  female  on  the  sea  of  life !  Poor, 
lonely  widow,  with  your  orphan  child  bound  to  your  back ! 
You  strive  hard  to  swim  with  your  infant  burden,  but  your 
arm  is  weak  and  your  strength  is  feeble  !  God  help  you  to 
breast  the  storm  !  God  send  a  strong  hand  to  lift  you,  with 
3'our  burden,  from  the  bitter,  briny  waves  of  woe  and  misery, 
before  the  last  huge  billow  shall  roll  over  your  soul,  and 
your  tiny  woman's  hand  shall  be  seen  no  more  lifted  above 
the  foaming  waters,  beckoning  for  help  ! 

The  very  next  door,  in  a  similarly  constructed  house,  lived 
another  woman,  two  or  three  years  older,  but  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent character  and  appearance.  She  had  an  only  son,  also, 
of  about  seven  or  eight  years;  but  her  boy  was  not  born  in 
wedlock,  nor  was  her  face  ever  vailed  when  she  went  into 
the  streets.  It  was  to  this  house  that  Rev.  Alfred  Orton, 
often  in  disguise,  and  very  stealthily,  came.  She  was  a  gen- 
tleman's daughter  whom  he  had  basely  ruined  in  Salem, 
and  had  brought  away  and  supported  in  Boston ;  not  by  his 
own  free  will,  but  by  compulsion  ;  for  not  only  did  her  father 
insist  upon  it,  but  she  herself  demanded  her  support  at  his 
hands.  But  she  had  grown  tired  of  him  of  late,  and  he  of 
her,  so  that  his  visits  were  not  so  frequent  now — less  a  mat- 
ter of  pleasure  to  himself  than  of  profit  to  her ;  for  he  never 
came  without  being  fleeced  of  his  money.  She  felt  that  in 
11 


242  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

giving  birth  to  an  illegitimate  cliilcl  her  character  was  gone 
forever,  and  she  resolved  to  replace  the  loss  of  character 
and  friends  by  winning  gold  in  any  way  she  could.  From 
Orton's  purse  she  took  all  she  could  lay  her  hands  upon ; 
and  now  she  had  begun  to  launch  out  in  other  directions, 
and  take  the  gold  of  other  men's  purses.  If  one  man  had 
ruined  her,  she  was  resolved  to  ruin  many  men,  body  and 
soul,  in  return. 

But,  to  succeed  well  in  her  infamous  calling,  she  discov- 
ered, rather  late,  it  is  true,  that  it  was  necessary  to  have  no 
incumbrances.  She  must  neither  have  a  constant  lover,  un- 
less he  could  pay  well  for  the  privilege,  nor  must  she  have 
a  child  dangling  at  her  apron-strings  and  calling  her  mother. 
She  resolved,  therefore,  that  Rev.  Alfred  Orton  should  take 
his  son  to  his  own  home.  He  was  the  boy's  father,  and 
she  felt  that  it  was  his  duty  to  maintain  him.  No  persua- 
sion of  his,  no  entreaty,  could  induce  her  to  alter  her  de- 
termination. "  He  must  take  his  son  to  his  own  house;  she 
could  be  bothered  with  him  no  longer ;  and  henceforth  she 
would  occupy  new  quarters,  and  launch  out  into  a  new  field 
of  operations."  Now,  to  do  this  thing,  which  was  so  peremp- 
torily required  of  him,  required  no  little  ingenuity  and  a 
deal  of  downright  lying  on  the  part  of  Rev.  Alfred  Orton. 
It  was  necessary  to  tell  his  wife — or,  at  least,  he  thought  it 
necessary — that  little  Johnny  was  the  son  of  a  poor  widow 
woman,  who  was  weak  and  nervous,  and  dying  every  day, 
whose  health  was  so  impaired  that  her  physician  had  de- 
clared that  she  ought  not  to  be  bothered  with  the  cares  of  a 
child,  nor  disturbed  by  the  noise  of  a  rude  boy.  He  had 
determined,  therefore,  to  adopt  little  Johnny  ;  or,  what  would 
be  the  same  thing,  to  take  him  into  his  service  as  a  servant, 
a  bona  fide  slave ! — while,  it  is  true,  but  as  complete  a  slave 
as  any  little  negro  upon  a  Southern  plantation. 

To  this  arrangement  Mrs.  Orton  gave  her  reluctant  con- 
sent. Slie  knew  not,  it  is  true,  that  the  mother  of  the  child 
had  been  for  some  years  the  concubine  of  her  husband ;  but 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  243 

she  felt  a  very  natural  dislike  "  to  be  mixing  up  her  own 
with  other  people's  children,"  her  own  being  small  and  of 
tender  age.  But  when  her  husband  brought  little  Johnny 
home,  Mrs.  Orton  felt  an  instinctive  and  sudden  dislike 
spring  up  in  her  heart  toward  the  child.  She  knew  not  why 
it  should  be  so,  but  there  was  a  strange,  a  peculiar  likeness 
between  the  bastard  and  her  own  children;  and  what  mother 
likes  to  have  her  child  look  like  another's?  As  months 
passed  on,  the  dislike  which  Mrs.  Orton  first  felt  for  little 
Johnny  increased  in  intensity  until  it  amounted  to  positive 
hatred.  She  had  been  unusually  cross  to  him  one  day.  and 
had  boxed  his  cars  upon  more  than  one  occasion.  Johnny 
had  been,  for  some  weeks  past,  sick  with  intermittent  chills 
and  fevers.  She  ordered  him  to  go  up  stairs  and  lie  upon 
his  coarse  mattress  on  the  ground.  But  it  was  very  cold  and 
cheerless  up  there,  and  Johnny  came  down,  contrary  to  pos- 
itive orders,  and  lay  down  in  the  kitchen  by  the  cooking- 
stove.  The  Irish  girl,  Margaret,  was  a  kind-hearted  young 
woman,  and  she  let  him  lie  there  to  warm  himself,  and 
recover  from  his  ague.  When  Mrs.  Orton  unexpectedly 
entered  the  kitchen  and  found  that  her  positive  commands 
had  been  disobeyed  .-;>  r-oon  after  tlsey  were  given,  she  few 
into  a  violent  passion,  and  seizing  the  broom,  belabored  the 
poor  boy  severely  over  the  head  and  upon  his  bare  feet, 
causing  several  unsightly  contusions.  The  sympathies  of 
the  Irish  girl  became  greatly  aroused  in  behalf  of  the  poor 
boy,  and  she  could  restrain  herself  no  longer,  but  losing  all 
icspect  for  her  mistress,  and 'jerking  the  broom  from  her 
hand,  she  cried  out,  in  indignation  : 

u  Would  ye  be  after  murderin'  the  spalpeen  ?  Would  ye 
kill  your  own  flesh  and  blood?" 

"  -My  own  flesh  and  blood!"  said  Mrs.  Orton,  in  amaze- 
ment.     '-What  do  you  mean  by  such  impertinence?" 

"I  mean  just  what  I  say.  Miathrese  Orton,"  replied  Mar- 
ga*ret,  (.iking  np  the  boy  and  Washing  away  the  blood  which 
trickled  down   his  cheeks.      "Johnny  is  bone  of  your  bone, 


244  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

and  flesh  of  your  flesh !  for  if  he  is  n't  your  own  darlint, 
he  is  at  least  Misther  Orton's  by  anither  wife ;  or,  rayther, 
by  anither  woman.  Shure,  ma'am,  an'  I  tell  you  the  thruth, 
if  it  is  disagrayable.  I  found  it  out  myself  by  accident, 
but  I  would  n't  grave  your  leddyship  for  the  world  by  tillin' 
ye,  but  for  now." 

Poor  Mrs.  Orton !  She  never  said  a  word  in  reply  to 
Margaret's  astonishing  revelation,  but  sunk  into  the  nearest 
chair,  as  if  crushed  by  the  dreadful  intelligence.  The  mist 
had  all  at  once  faded  from  her  vision,  and  the  clouds  *of 
uncertainty  had  rolled  away,  and  she  could  see  more  clearly 
than  ever  the  resemblance  between  the  bastard  boy  and  her 
own  children.  She  understood  now  why  her  antipathy  had 
been  so  strong  and  unconquerable.  In  her  heart  there  was 
an  instinctive  admission  of  the  truth  of  Margaret's  words ;  and, 
though  they  cut  like  cold  steel  to  her  heart  of  hearts,  instead 
of  gainsaying  or  denying  them,  she  felt  rather  like  pushing 
them  in  deeper  and  deeper,  like  so  many  sharp  stillettoes. 

Poor,  deceived  woman !  How  we  pity  the  wife  who  is 
mated  to  a  villain,  who  deceives  her  with  a  kiss  or  an  appar- 
ently warm  embrace,  and  then  leaves  her  alone,  that  he  may 
go  away  and  pillow,  in  secret,  his  head  upjon  another's  bosom. 
Vile  traitor !  You  know  not  how  great  a  monster  you  are  ! 
Foul  debauchee !  You  know  not,  that  while  breaking  the 
heart  of  your  poor,  desolate,  and  forsaken  wife,  God  will 
bring  you  into  judgment,  and,  sooner  or  later,  the  hand  of 
the  avenger  shall  be  upon  you  ! 

Mrs.  Orton  sat  for  a  long  time  in  silence,  as  if  stunned 
by  the  blow ;  but  after  several  minutes — perhaps  thirty  or 
more — had  elapsed,  she  began  to  moan,  and  to  rock  herself 
to  and  fro,  like  a  maniac  mother  bemoaning  in  her  cell  her 
dead  child  which  they  have  carried  away  for  burial ;  for  her 
hope  was  dead.  It  was  just  then  that  Mr.  Orton  came  in; 
and,  not  understanding  how  matters  stood,  he  interrogated 
his  wife  as  to  the  cause  of  her  distress.  The  poor  woman 
made  no  reply,  but  sat  moaning  and  rocking  to  and  fro  as 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  245 

before.  There  was  no  intermission  in  her  rocking,  nor  did 
she. cease  for  a  single  moment  her  moanings. 

Perceiving  that  he  oould  get  no  satisfaction  from  her,  he 
turned  to  Margaret  and  asked  her  what  it  all  meant.  The 
Irish  girl  replied,  in  her  straightforward,  honest,  Irish  way  : 

"  The  misthress  is  waping  and  moaning  because  I  tould 
her  not  to  bate  the  poor  boy  so  ;  for  shure  an'  he  was  none 
ither  than  her  own  darlint,  since  you  was  his  own  thrue 
father  !     An'  I  suppose  " 

"And  who  told  you  such  a  base  falsehood?"  asked  Mr. 
Or  ton,  choking  with  rage. 

"  x\n'  shure  an'  it  was  the  boy's  own  mither  that  told 
me  " 

Before  the  girl  could  say  another  word,  she  was  knocked 
sprawling  upon  the  floor,  and  denounced  as  a  liar. 

The  result  of  all  this  affair  was,  that  Margaret  left  the 
employment  of  Mr.  Orton ;  and  though  she  spoke  much 
against  her  old  employer,  she  was  advised  by  some  to  hold 
her  tongue ;  while  there  were  others  who  believed  her  story, 
and  urged  her  to  prosecute  the  preacher  for  assault  and 
battery.  This  she  resolved  to  do ;  but  a  few  dollars  in  hard 
silver,  and  not  a  little  coaxing,  with  a  great  deal  of  flattery 
and  "soft  sawder,"  which  but  few  Irish  girls  can  resist, 
induced  Margaret  to  forego  her  revenge,  and  "let  bygones 
be  bygones."  Indeed,  to  make  sure  of  Margaret's  silence 
concerning  the  whole  difficulty,  Mr.  Orton  even  prevailed 
upon  her  to  return  to  her  former  service,  at  an  increase  in 
her  wages  of  from  seventy-five  cents  to  one  dollar  per  week. 
When  Mr.  Orton  had  accomplished  so  adroitly  this  coup 
d'etat  in  a  domestic  way,  he  felt  more  easy  for  the  future. 

But  not  long  after  this  a  more  serious  difficulty  arose — 
the  result  of  his  own  passionate  nature — from  which  it  was 
not  likely  that  he  could  extricate  himself  so  easily,  and 
which,  in  reality,  caused  him  to  abscond  very  suddenly  from 
the  city  of  Boston.      The  case  was  as  follows  : 

S;nce  Johnny  had  come  into  his  possession — forced  upon 


246  OLD    TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

him  against  his  will — and  there  was  no  safe  expedient  hy 
which  he  could  rid  himself  of  the  incumbrance,  he  de- 
termined to  make  the  most  out  of  a  bad  case,  which  was  to 
make  Johnny  useful  as  a  servant.  So  he  was  not  only  sent 
on  errands  by  Mr.  Orton,  but  did  the  chores  of  the  house- 
hold in  general ;  and,  among  other  duties,  he  was  put  to 
cleaning  Mr.  Orton's  boots.  Now  this  was  the  preacher's 
old  trade ;  and,  although  he  was  an  adejDt  in  the  art,  or 
" profession"  as  the  boot-black  calls  it — dubbing  himself 
"  Professor"  and  "  Artist  "—yet  Mr.  Orton,  like  all  other 
boot-blacks,  was  exceedingly  glad  to  resign  the  "profes- 
sion "  to  other  and  more  juvenile  hands.  It  was  in  vain, 
however,  that  he  attempted  to  teach  little  Johnny  the  art  in 
which  he  had  excelled.  The  poor  little  fellow  either  could 
not  or  would  not  learn ;  nor  is  it  likely  that  he  had  the 
strength  to  impart  that  brilliant  polish  which  only  a  man 
or  a  very  skillful  and  experienced  hand  can  give  to  leather, 
which  they  make  to  shine  as  a  mirror,  and  glisten  like  pol- 
ished ebony.  Many  a  time  did  poor  Johnny  get  a  rap  upon 
the  skull,  or  upon  the  knuckles,  with  the  hard  brush  or 
boot,  when  he  failed  to  give  even  tolerable  satisfaction.  It 
was  one  Sunday  morning,  just  before  service,  when  the  last 
bell  was  tolling,  and  it  was  time  to  go  to  church,  that 
Johnny  was  called  into  the  kitchen  by  Mr.  Orton,  and  told 
sternly  to  bring  in  his  boots. 

I  ain't  done  cleanin'  'em,  sir,"  said  Johnny,  trembling 
from  head  to  foot ;  for  he  had  been  engaged  at  play  with 
the  children,  and  had  forgotten  to  attend  to  his  duty. 

"  Bring  them  here,  in  a  moment,  sir.  Be  quick ;  for  I 
have  no  time  to  lose,"  was  the  stern  reply  of  Mr.  Orton. 

Poor  Johnny  went  out,  and  returned  with  the  boots  all 
soiled  and  filthy,  as  when  pulled  off  the  night  before.  The 
moment  Rev.  Alfred  Orton  caught  sigh£  of  the  boots,  all 
soiled  and  covered  with  mud,  and  remembered  how  late  it 
was  in  the  day,  and  heard  the  last  chimes  of  the  church- 
bell — chimes  which  should  have  brought  a  mellowness  to 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  247 

his  feelings,  and  awoke  holy  echoes  in  his  heart,  if  there 
had  been  ever  any  holiness  there — his  anger  became  so  great 
that  he  seized  a  steel  fork  lying  upon  the  shelf,  and  flung  it 
at  the  head  of  his  illegitimate  son.  It  is  likely  that  he  did 
not  intend  to  injure  him  seriously.  It  is  likely  that  he  did 
not  think  for  a  moment  of  the  probable  consequences.  But 
it  was  too  late  to  recall  the  fatal  missive  which  he  had  flun^, 
so  passionately,  and  with  such  force,  at  the  culprit.  One 
of  the  prongs  of  the  steel  fork  penetrated  the  eye-ball  of 
poor  little  Johnny,  and  injured  its  sight  forever. 

Margaret  entered  the  kitchen  just  at  the  moment.  She 
had  returned  from  mass,  and  her  feelings  were  rather  in- 
clined toward  charity.  But  her  indignation  against  Mr. 
Orton  knew  no  bounds  ;  and  she  poured  out  a  torrent  of 
invective  upon  him  in  so  loud  a  strain  that  her  angry  de- 
nunciations attracted  the  attention  of  several  of  the  neigh- 
bors  and  street  passengers,  several  of  whom  came  into  the 
kitchen  to  see  what  was  the  cause  of  the  uproar. 

There  were  other  witnesses,  therefore,  to  a  horrid  brutal- 
ity, committed  upon  a  helpless  child,  and  upon  the  Sabbath 
day,  which  was  enough  to  arouse  the  indignation  of  the 
most  callous  and  indifferent  heart.  It  is  a  wonder  that,  in 
that  mobocratic  city,  they  did  not  tear  him  limb  from  limb. 
Doubtless,  had  the  poor  boy  been  a  negro  slave  instead  of 
a  white  one,  they  would  have  built  a  bonfire  to  liberty  with 
the  slaveholder's  mangled  body. 

But  they  did  right  in  not  hanging  him  then  and  there 
as  high  as  Haman.  They  cried  "  shame  ! "  and  there  was 
one  man  who  resolved  upon  immediate  prosecution  ;  and  went 
forthwith  to  a  magistrate,  to  issue  an  indictment  against 
Alfred  Orton,  for  maltreating  and  maiming  the  poor  ille- 
gitimate boy,  his  own  son,  but  who  was  supposed  by  the 
community  to  be  his  hired  servant  or  bound  apprentice. 

That  gentleman  did  right.  He  acted  so  promptly  from 
the  noble  impulses  of  a  humane  and  benevolent  heart.  For, 
remember,  0  reader  !  that  there  are  humane  and  benevolent 


248  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

men  in  Boston  as  elsewhere.  For  if  Massachusetts  produced 
an  Orton,  remember  that  she  produced  a  Sanford  also  ;  and 
a  Franklin,  and  a  John  Adams,  and  a  giant  Webster,  and 
many  other  great  and  good  men. 

That  gentleman,  we  repeat,  acted  as  any  humane  man 
would  have  done,  anywhere  under  the  sun,  where  there  were 
laws  to  redress  the  wrongs  of  the  oppressed.  He  did  as 
many  a  Southern  man  would  have  done,  who  was  witness 
to  the  fact  that  a  brutal  and  insane  master  was  trampling, 
with  brutality,  upon  the  rights  of  his  slave.  For,  remem- 
ber, 0  Northern  fanatic  and  ultraist  of  New  England  ! — 
remember  that  the  slave  has  rights  as  well  as  the  master; 
and  an  intelligent  community  will  not  only  sanction  the 
law,  but  even  back  its  officers — ay  !  compel  them  to  main- 
tain those  rights  when  they  have  been  invaded  by  tyranny 
and  oppression.  Wherever  any  other  spirit  than  this — the 
spirit  of  the  most  refined  humanity — exists,  there  is  neither 
law  nor  intelligence  ;  it  is  a  community  of  savages  and  bar- 
barians. We  know  not  of  such  a  community  at  the  slan- 
dered South ;  nor  do  we  believe  there  is  one,  at  the  present 
day,  in  New  England,  although  it  is  greatly  to  be  appre- 
hended, that  unless  the  spirit  of  fanaticism  is  soon  suppressed, 
that  people  will  become  as  insane  upon  the  subject  of  slavery 
as  they  were  in  the  days  of  Cotton  Mather  upon  witchcraft. 
Would  to  God  that  the  spirits  of  her  old  giants — the  spirits 
of  a  Franklin  and  an  Adams  might  awake  from  their  long 
sleep  of  death  ;  and  that,  in  their  waking,  their  convulsive 
throes  might  cause  a  mighty  revolution,  that  shall  shake 
old  Massachusetts  to  her  foundations  ;  and  tumbling  her  old 
granite  hills  from  their  basis,  shall  bury,  in  eternal  ruins, 
the  wild  spirit  and  maniacal  fury  of  abolitionism.  Amen, 
let  every  patriot  and  lover  of  his  country  say ;  for  only  then 
can  the  South  and  the  East,  the  North  and  the  West,  hope 
to  live  in  peace  and  harmony  in  this,  our  once  so  glorious, 
and  happy,  and  peaceful  Union. 

We  have  great  faith  in  the  idea  that  there  are  good  and 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  249 

true  men  everywhere,  whether  at  the  South  or  at  the  North, 
whether  in  America  or  in  England.    But  while  we  do  firmly 
believe  that  there  is  a  much  greater  proportion  of  good  and 
true  men  at  the  South  than  elsewhere — kind,  humane,  char- 
itable, hospitable,  and   godly,  men — we    honestly  attribute 
the  fact  not  so  much  to  a  genial  climate  and  friendly  atmos- 
phere, as  to  the  institution  of  slavery  as  it  exists  at  present, 
among  us  !     This  may  sound  like  strange  philosophy  to  the 
ears  of  a  Northern  man  or  an  Englishman.    Men  like  Spur- 
geon  may  say — Spurgeon  himself  may  declare — that  he  would 
as  soon  "  commune  with  a  horse-thief  or  a  murderer,  as  to 
admit  to  the  Lord's  Table  a  slaveholder."     Was  it  malice 
or  ignorance  which  made  him  say  that  ?     God.  have  mercy 
upon  the  poor,  deluded  abolitionist,  who  professes  to  be  an 
advocate  and  lover  of  God's  Bible,  and  yet  challenges  God's 
right  to  establish  society  upon  just  such  a  basis  as  he  thinks 
proper  ;  for  slavery  is  established  upon  an  eternal  basis.    The 
Almighty  God  himself  established  it,  and  gave  slaves  to  Jtis 
children  in  the  days  of  the  patriarchs.     For  the  sins  of  his 
own  "peculiar  people"  he  sent  them  into  captivity  for  many 
hundred  years — many  years  longer  than  the  African  race 
have  been  in  bondage  in  America.     For  the  salvation  of 
the  heathen  and  the  benefit  of  the  African  race — perhaps 
of  his  own  elect,  out  of  a  besotted  and  sin-degraded  people 
— he  has  brought  four  millions  of  immortal   souls   to  the 
knowledge  of  "  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus."     Four  millions 
of  souls  have  thus  been  invested  with  the  power  to  become 
"  the  sons  of  God,"  whereas  they  were  doomed  before  to 
eternal  darkness,  and  damnation,  and  death. 

But  the  fanatics  of  the  North  and  England  would  send 
these  four  millions  back  to  Africa,  which  is  the  road  back 
to  hell !  For  to  give  them  their  freedom  en  masse  is  to  pro- 
nounce the  doom  of  expatriation  upon  them,  or  to  devote  them 
all  to  a  final  and  a  bloody  extermination,  more  sudden,  and 
heartless,  and  complete  than  has  been  the  almost  extermina- 
tion of  the  Aborigines  of  America!  For  is  it  not  true  that, 
11* 


250  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

aside  from  the  well-known  fact  derived  from  the  statistics 
of  each  recurring  census,  that  the  free  negroes  of  the  North- 
ern States,  so  far  from  increasing  in  a  healthy  and  natural 
ratio,  are  daily  diminishing  in  numbers?  Is  it  not  true  that 
several  of  our  Northern  and  Northwestern  States  are  seri- 
ously agitating  the  question  of  a  speedy  removal  beyond 
their  borders  of  the  few  free  negroes  with  whom  they  are 
pestered  ? 

Poor,  degraded,  despised,  maltreated  free  negro  !  Kicked 
and  cuffed  hither  and  thither,  without  a  kind  master  to  de- 
fend you  when  wronged,  without  a  friendly  soul  to  sympa- 
thize with  you  in  your  woes  and  troubles !  cheated  and 
fleeced  on  all  sides,  with  poverty,  and  cold,  and  hunger,  and 
starvation  staring  you  in  the  face,  and  the  gloomy  walls  of 
a  prison  looming  up  before  your  terrified  imagination  ! — 
whither  and  to  whom  shall  you  flee  ?  Cursed  by  the  white 
man,  hated  and  despised  by  the  slave,  and  pitied  only  by 
the  slandered,  and  abused,  and  grossly-misrepresented  slave- 
holder, who  at  last  is  your  best  and  truest  friend,  you  are 
destined  to  be  driven  into  the  wilderness  and  the  desert,  and 
forced  back  into  a  savage  condition  worse  than  the  moral 
death  and  corpse-like  state  from  which  you  are  only  just 
beginning  to  awake  by  the  helping  hand  of  the  beneficent 
institution  of  slavery ! 

Should  that  sad  day  ever  come,  when  slavery  shall  no 
more  exist  at  the  South  as  now  it  exists — not  Euroj>ean,  nor 
Asiatic,  nor  African,  but  Southern  slavery  ; — should  the  arch- 
fiend of  hell  succeed  in  his  diabolical  designs,  and  the  fanat- 
ics of  the  North  ultimately  triumph  over  the  ruins  of  their 
country ;  and  the  Constitution  become  obliterated,  or  torn 
into  fragments ;  and  the  dome  of  the  Capitol  has  tumbled 
in ;  and  the  Capitol  itself  should  one  clay  lie  moldering  in 
ruins ;  and  slavery  be  swept  like  a  dark  wave  across  the 
Atlantic,  to  resume  its  original  forlorn  and  hopeless  degra- 
dation upon  the  sandy  plains  and  arid  deserts  of  Africa, 
again  to  put  on  the  fetters  and  to  be  weighed  down  by  the 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE  251 

heavy  manacles  of  Ethiopian  bondage,  from  which  they  have 
been  rescued  by  the  beneficent  hand  of  Christian  American 
slavery,  and  elevated  from  the  degradation,  and  oppression, 
and  manacles  of  the  barbarian,  to  the  comparatively  free 
and  happy  condition  of  contented  laborers — an  almost  free 
and  happy  peasantry — slave  in  name,  but  free  peasants  in 
reality ; — should  ever  such  an  exchange  be  made — so  sad  for 
them,  so  calamitous  to  the  world  at  large,  so  disastrous  and 
so  suicidal  to  the  Union — then,  perhaps,  when  too  late,  some 
misguided  but  repentant  patriot  will  be  seen,  like  Marius, 
standing,  with  grief  in  his  heart,  and  consternation  and 
horror  in  his  countenance,  wringing  his  hands  in  despair, 
and  looking  with  utter  agony  of  soul  upon  the  spectacle  of 
woe  and  desolation  which  his  own  suicidal  hand  has  caused, 
or  helped  to  consummate,  but  which  a  race  of  giants  can 
not  repair  through  a  long  future  of  untold  centuries.  The 
ruins  of  Carthayc  are  ruins  still! 


252  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 


CHAPTER   V. 

T  the  commencement  of  our  last  chapter,  we  spoke  of 
an  interesting  and  lovely  young  widow,  with  a  single 
child,  who  preferred  to  bear  her  own  burdens  alone, 
in  her  isolation  and  separate  independence  of  the 
community  in  which  she  lived  ;  preferring  to  struggle 
on  through  the  dark  vale  of  poverty  by  the  labor  of  her 
own  hands,  in  an  honest  way,  and  as  an  honest  woman. 

Without  any  other  assistance  than  her  needle,  she  had 
managed  to  support  her  darling  little  Willie  and  herself; 
that  is  to  say,  by  dint  of  hard  work,  and  constant,  almost 
unremitting  application  to  her  needle,  she  had  barely  man- 
aged to  pay  her  house-rent  and  buy  victuals  and  clothes  for 
herself  and  her  child.  She  is  unable  to  hire  a  servant,  and 
has  been  compelled,  full  many  a  time  and  oft,  to  wash  and 
to  scour,  and  to  perform  all  the  offices  of  a  menial  or  a 
slave.  Her  delicate,  fairy-like  hands  were  never  made  for 
such  work ;  but  what  else  could  the  poor,  poverty-stricken 
woman  do  ?  She  had  tried  to  teach  music,  to  be  employed 
as  a  teacher  ;  but  who  would  employ  an  unknown  musician, 
unless  she  had  hailed  from  Europe — from  Germany,  or  Italy, 
or  France — and  could  bang  upon  the  piano  with  the  fren- 
zied energy  of  a  maniac  or  a  wild  Chimpanzee,  and  speak 
not  a  word  of  English  !  She  had  tried  painting,  had  re- 
sumed her  brush  and  her  easel,  and  painted  several  lovely 
landscapes,  and  even  portraits,  sketches  which  would  have 
been  pronounced  most  captivating,  in  her  days  of  sunshine 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  253 

and  prosperity,  by  her  friends  and  ardent  admirers ;  speci- 
mens of  art  worthy  the  skill  of  a  Raphael  of  ancient,  or  a 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  of  more  modern  times.     But  who  would 
buy  the  works  of  an  unknown  American  artist,  unless  they 
could   be   bought  at  a  sacrifice,  a  trifle,   "a  mere  song?" 
Wait,  poor  woman,  until  those  works  of  art,  which  seem  ,<o 
beautiful  now,  in  their  freshness  and  rich  simplicity,  shall 
have  become  old  and  covered  with  the  dust  of  many  years ; 
wait  until   you   have  starved   to  death,  and   you  and  your 
little  boy  have  both  become  so  attenuated  by  poverty,  and 
cold,  and  starvation,  that  you  have  been  at  last  forced  to  lie 
down  in  the  grave  a  century  or  so ;  write  your  name  in  the 
corner,  and  let  the  dust  cover  it  up  and  hide  it  so  effectu- 
ally that  no  one  can  either  read  or  see  it;  then,  when  you 
have  waited  in  vain  for  bread — waited  so  long  that  you  could 
wait  no  longer— and  your  attenuated,  exhausted  frame  had 
lost  all  its  little  strength,  and  could  hold  up  your  drooping 
head  no  more,  so  that  it  dropped  still  lower,  and  lay  forever 
still  upon  your  breast,  as  your  eyes  closed  in  death  from 

very  weariness  and  exhaustion,  and  cold  and  hunger  ! wait 

till  then,  poor  artist !  and  some  one  will  then  wipe  away  the 
dust  which  has  been  accumulating  for  many  years  upon  your 
picture,  and  exclaim,  with  rapture,  "0,  how  very  beautiful! 
how  exquisitely  fine!  Where,  sir,  and  who,  is  the  artist?" 
uAh,  my  dear  madam,  the  author  of  this  piece  was  a  lovely 

young  woman,  who  died  from  neglect  when  quite  young 

from  starvation,  or  cold,  or  consumption.  She  was  taught 
in  Italy  under  the  best  masters,  but  she  was  a  master  her- 
self. I  could  not  sell  that  piece  without  getting  a  very 
large  price  for  it;  not  less  than  five  hundred  dollars!" 
And,  perhaps,  a  few  pitiful  shillings  had  been  all  that  the 
merchant,  or  his  father  before  him,  had  paid  for  a  beautiful 
design,  whose  only  objection  at  the  time  it  was  purchased 
from  the  unknown  artist  was,  that  it  was  too  green,  and 
lacked  the  mellowness  of  age  to  make  it  sell  as  a  chef-d'- 
oeuvre of  la  grande  arti*t<  ! 


254  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  )    OR, 

Poor  painter,  poet,  author,  artist !  The  world  seldom 
rewards  you  while  living  on  this  side  the  grave  !  Cotem- 
poraries  envy  and  malign  you,  and  your  publishers,  as  a 
general  rule,  with  but  few  exceptions,  receive  the  profits  of 
all  your  hard  labor,  and  application,  and  diligent  research. 
But  never  mind!  Toil  on!  not  so  much  for  renown  as  to 
do  good,  silently  and  unseen,  to  others — to  make  a  misera- 
ble world  as  happy  and  as  comfortable  as  you  can.  Toil  on 
for  the  good  of  mankind,  who  dwell  in  palaces,  and  sit  upon 
thrones,  and  are  clothed  with  fine  linen,  and  silks,  and  satins, 
and  are  decorated  with  gilded  stars  and  with  softest  ermine, 
while  you  are  forced  to  dwell  in  some  lonely  cot,  and  to 
wear  the  humblest  apparel.  Toil  on,  I  say — not  so  much 
for  purposes  of  self-aggrandizement  as  to  benefit  and  be- 
friend a  world  of  sinners,  and  God  will  reward  you  in  secret, 
by  bringing  happiness  and  peace  to  your  own  soul — the  best 
of  earthly  riches — -while  He  shall  reward  you  in  the  spirit- 
world  with  eternal  riches,  and  a  crown  of  glory  which  shall 
never  fall,  nor  be  snatched  by  others  from  your  head.  You 
will  have  food  enough  then — bread  enough  and  to  spare. 
Poor  widow !  you  shall  not  feel  hunger  nor  cold  any  more, 
and  God  shall  wipe  away — the  Son  of  God  himself,  with  his 
blood-stained  scarf,  "shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  your 
eyes." 

She  had  been  weeping — this  poor  widow.  It  was  a  cold, 
a  very  cold  night  in  January,  1826,  a  few  weeks  only  after 
the  death  of  Colonel  Shelton  ;  and  the  stove  had  grown  cold, 
and  there  was  no  more  any  wood  to  warm  it  again.  It  was 
past  midnight,  and  she  was  still  seated  by  a  little  work- 
table,  upon  which  an  oil  lamp  was  burning.  The  oil  was 
red,  and  emitted  a  thick,  disagreeable  smoke  and  offensive 
odor  which  was  almost  suffocating.  She  ought  to  have  had 
better  and  purer  oil  to  burn  in  her  midnight  lamp,  but  what 
better  could  she  get  with  the  last  few  coppers  she  had  left 
in  her  purse  ?  And  why  did  she  sit  there,  shivering  in  the 
cold  and  plying  that  needle  so  rapidly,  when  she   should 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  255 

have  been  in  her  bed,  hugging  her  little  Willie  to  her 
mother's  breast?  Listen  to  the  words  which  she  is  murmur- 
ing in  a  low  but  peculiarly  sweet  and  musical  voice,  spoken 
low,  lest  they  should  wake  her  sleeping  boy : 

"  It  is  cold,  0  !  so  very  cold  to-night !  but  I  have  burned 
the  very  last  stick  of  wood  in  the  house,  and  Willie  will 
have  to  lie  in  bed  in  the  morning,  until  I  can  get  some 
more  to  warm  up  again  our  little  stove.  Yes!  and  Willie 
will  want  his  breakfast,  too,  and  I  will  have  no  money  to 
buy  him  bread,  unless  I  finish  this  work !  Mr.  Ashmore 
told  me  I  must  certainly  finish  it  to-night;  that  it  was 
wanted  very  early — at  daylight,  or,  at  all  events,  by  sun- 
rise— for  a  customer  who  was  going  off  in  the  morning.  I 
must,  therefore,  stitch  away,  and  not  disappoint  either  Mr. 
Ashmore  or  the  customer.  Poor  little  Willie  !  How  dis- 
appointed will  he  be  when  he  wakes  up  in  the  morning  and 
finds  himself  alone,  and  his  dear  mamma  absent  from  the 
room  !  gone  out  to  carry  home  her  w.ork,  and  get  money  to 
buy  him  bread  and  milk  !  Poor  little  fellow  !  I  think  I 
shall  have  to  wake  him  up  and  coax  him  to  stay  alone  a 
little  while,  covered  up  in  the  bed,  like  a  good  boy  waiting 
until  his  mother  shall  return  from  the  tailor's.  How  sweet 
he  looks,  with  his  curly  head  resting  upon  his  fat,  cherub- 
like  form  !  What  a  Cupid  he  would  make,  if  painted 
among  roses  by  a  skillful  artist !     0  !  that  I  could  afford  to 

lose  the  time,  and  how  gladly  would  I  attempt  to No  ! 

no  !  I  would  fail,  utterly  foil !  Nor  do  I  believe  that  the 
best  artists  could  succeed  in  doing  full  justice  to  my  angel 
boy!" 

The  fond  mother  could  resist  no  longer  a  mother's  natu- 
ral impulse  to  go  to  her  sleeping  child.  Thus  talking  to 
herself,  and  looking  up  every  now  and  then  from  her  needle- 
work, she  had  gazed  again  and  again  with  fond  delight  upon 
her  beautiful  and  idolized  boy.  But  now  she  rose  from  her 
seat  and  leaned  gently  and  softly  over  him.  She  kissed  his 
forehead,  and  then  placed  her  check  against  his  very  softly 


256  .      OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

and  tenderly,  and  the  tears  ran  fast  down  her  cheeks,  and 
her  chest  heaved  painfully,  and  her  heart  brooded  sorrow- 
fully over  her  sleeping  child — almost  as  sorrowfully  or  with 
a  feeling  akin  to  that  which  a  young  mother  has  been  lean- 
ing over  and  looking  sorrowfully  upon  her  still-born  child, 
which  has  never  breathed,  which  was  still-born  in  the  dead 
hour  of  the  night,  and  which  she  knows  full  well  will  be 
carried  away  in  the  morning.  The  thought  of  leaving  her 
darling  boy,  even  for  a  short  while  in  the  morning,  pained 
her  mother's  heart,  so  that  she  could  not  help  shedding 
tears,  and  one  of  those  tears  dropped  from  her  long  eye- 
lashes and  fell  upon  her  boy's'  up-turned  face.  The  child 
was  immediately  wakened  by  that  single  tear-drop.  He 
threw  his  arms  around  his  mother's  neck,  and  said  : 

"  Willie  is  cold,  mamma  !  Do  come  to  bed  and  keep  your 
Willie  warm." 

"  Yes,  my  love,  your  mamma  will  lie  down  by  your  side, 
for  she  is  cold  also,  and  little  Willie  will  warm  his  mother 
with  the  generous  warmth  of  his  loving  little  heart." 

"  Yes,  mamma ;  do  come  to  bed,  and  let  your  sweet  little 
son  warm  you,  for  mamma's  hands  are  very  cold,  and  she 
is  shivering." 

The  mother,  thus  urged  by  her  little  son,  lay  down  by 
his  side,  and  covered  herself  with  the  bed-clothes.  She 
pulled  off  none  of  her  clothing  except  her  slippers,  but  got 
into  the  bed  dressed,  with  Willie,  who  nestled  close  to  his 
dear  mamma,  like  a  little  pet  lamb  lying  by  its  mother's 
side.  His  curly  head  was  pressed  close  against  .his  mother's 
warm,  soft  breast,  and  his  ear  was  listening  to  the  charming 
melody  of  her  heart's  fond  beatings.  The  throbbings  of  his 
fond  mother's  heart  had  been  ever  a  sweet  lullaby  to  soothe 
little  Willie  to  slumber,  and  the  child  was  soon  asleep  again, 
no  longer  cold ;  and  the  warmth  of  her  child's  body  had 
warmed  and  put  new  life  and  vigor  into  hers  also.  Her 
hands  and  fingers  were  no  longer  cold  and  stiff,  and  her 
frame  was  no  longer  shivering.     She  rose  very  cautiously 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LANl5-PIRATE.  257 

from  her  recumbent  position  and  sat  upright  in  the  bed. 
She  threw  a  thick  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  and  reaching 
over  to  the  little  work-stand,  took  up  the  lamp  and  her 
work  at  the  same  time.  She  adjusted  the  lamp  very  care- 
fully upon  the  bed,  and  resumed  her  needle  ;  plying  it  now 
a  great  deal  faster  as  the  hours  passed  on  toward  morning. 

Two  o'clock  came,  and  as  the  huge  hammer  of  the  old 
town-clock  rose  slowly  in  the  frosty  night-air,  and  fell 
heavily  upon  the  tower-bell,  and  as  all  the  other  clocks  of 
the  city  echoed  back  the  response — "two  o'clock" — the 
watchman  from  the  tower  cried — "All  is  well!"  And  the 
watchman  below,  leaning  upon  his  musket  or  his  cudgel, 
answered,  "All  is  well!"  And  the  other  watchmen,  in  all 
the  wards  of  the  city,  answered  back  like  so  many  hearty 
cheers,  "  All  is  well !  "  "  Three  o'clock"  struck,  and  "four," 
and  "five,"  and  "six  o'clock,"  and  still  the  cry  was — "All 
is  well!" 

Yes  !  all  may  be  well  without,  but  all  is  not  well  within  ! 
Many  an  anxious  one  is  bending  with  an  agonized  heart 
over  the  dying  form  of  a  loved  and  cherished  one.  Is  it 
well  with  him  who  is  racked  and  tortured  by  pain,  and 
scorched  with  fever?  Is  it  well  with  him  whose  hollow 
cough  sounds  like  the  voice  of  the  soul  shortening  its  adieus 
to  the  world  from  the  cavernous  sepulcher  of  the  body  ? 
Is  "all  well"  with  you,  poor  widow,  half-sitting,  half- 
reclining  in  your  bed,  with  your  sleeping  boy  by  your  side, 
and  your  fingers  bleeding,  and  almost  worked  to  the  bone 
for  a  morsel  of  bread  to  feed  you  in  your  hunger,  and  for 
a  billet  of  wood  to  drive  out  the  cold  of  to-morrow  ?  Say, 
ye  poor  of  the  North,  are  ye  richer  and  more  independent 
than  one  of  Napoleon's  greatest  marshals,  who  asked,  in  his 
old  days,  as  the  only  reward  of  his  pristine  energy  and 
ancient  valor,  that  they  would  give  him  bread,  simply  bread 
enough  to  eat  the  residue  of  his  life,  in  his  old  days. 

Say,  ye  poor  of  the  North,  who  have  been  pinched  by 
hunger  and  numbed  by  cold;  who  have  felt  the  hard  grip 


258  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

of  the  cruel  old  frost-king,  and  have  worn  so  long  and  sc 
hopelessly  the  heavy  chains  and  galling  fetters  of  poverty — 
grinding,  crushing  poverty,  such  as  was  never  known  nor 
experienced  in  a  Southern  clime,  where  flowers  bloom 
perennially,  and  fruits  grow  spontaneously  from  a  genial, 
God-blessed  soil!  — say,  ye  poor  of  the  North!  ye  down- 
trodden, poverty-smitten  ones !  have  you  not  often  been 
willing,  in  your  day  of  trouble  and  your  hour  of  agony,  to 
sell  yourselves  into  bondage  for  a  mess  of  pottage?  —  for 
wholesome,  life-giving,  life-sustaining  food?  and  when  hun- 
ger has  pinched  you  too  hard,  and  there  was  no  hope  of 
relief  from  your  sufferings,  have  you  not,  in  your  despair, 
been  willing  and  eae;er  "to  eat  the  husks  which  the  swine 
did  eat,"  that  you  might  be  filled  ?  I  ask  it  not  by  way 
of  taunt,  or  reproach,  or  contempt;  God  forbid!  but  with 
earnest,  sincere  pity.  Have  ye  not  committed  crimes,  even, 
that  you  might  be  cast  into  prison,  that  there  you  may  be 
provided  with  a  few  hard  crusts,  that  ye  may  eat  and  not 
die  ?  but,  alas !  only  to  die  the  more  slowly,  to  dwindle 
away  and  "die  by  inches,"  from  the  cold  and  damp  of  your 
prison  walls,  because  you  were  starving,  dying  beforehand 
of  hunger ;  and  you  committed  a  theft,  a  felony,  that  you 
might  be  cast  into  a  dungeon  to  be  fed  at  the  expense  of 
the  country,  preferring  a  prison,  however  gloomy,  to  the 
darker  dungeon  of  despair  !  Have  you  not  only  committed 
theft  to  appease  the  fierce  gnawings  of  your  rabid  hunger, 
but  arson  also,  that  you  might  thaw  your  frozen  limbs,  and 
warm  your  freezing  bodies  by  the  conflagration  of  a  city? 
Alas  !  for  the  poor  of  Boston,  and  New  York,  and  London ! 
those  mighty  cities,  where  cold  and  hunger  prevail ;  those 
hell-gates  of  crime  and  poverty,  where  the  rich  roll  in 
wealth,  and  die  from  the  plethora  of  their  riches,  while 
thousands  around  them  are  dying  for  the  want  of  a  few 
"  crumbs  which  fall  from  the  rich  man's  table  !  " 

How  is  it  with  you,  poor  widow?      Daylight  came,  and 
she  rose  very  gently  from  the  bed  in  which  she  had  been 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  259 

sewing  since  two  o'clock.  Her  work  was  just  completed  as 
the  day  began  to  dawn.  She  folded  it  up  neatly  and  put 
on  her  bonnet  and  large  worsted  shawl.  Just  then,  little 
Willie,  missing  his  mother  from  his  side,  awoke  from  his 
slumbers ;  rubbing  his  eyes  a  little  while,  as  all  children 
usually  do,  then  opened  them  wide,  and  clear,  and  bright, 
and  looked  anxiously  at  his  mother. 

"  Mamma !  "  said  he,  "  I  want  to  get  up  and  go  with  you, 
mamma;  you  arc  going  somewhere  now  and  I  want  to  go 
too." 

"  No,  my  child,"  said  his  mother,  kindly;  "  it  is  very  cold 
in  the  streets,  and  the  keen,  sharp  north-wind  will  cut  my 
little  cherub's  face  in  two." 

Willie  acquiesced,  like  a  good  boy,  for  although  an  only 
child,  and  a  widow's  son,  he  had  been  taught  to  obey  his 
mother's  slightest  wish,  as  a  loving  subject  obeys  the  com- 
mands of  his  sovereign.  During  his  mother's  absence  of 
more  than  an  hour,  the  little  fellow  lay  awake  and  covered 
up  in  the  bed,  thinking  over  the  very  same  thoughts  which 
he  will  think  one  day,  perhaps,  when  he  becomes  a  man, 
for  the  thoughts  of  the  child  are  the  thoughts  of  the  man 
in  miniature,  and  Willie's  thoughts  were  of  his  dear,  absent 
mother,  as  he  would  think  of  her  and  love  her  all  the  same 
when  he  became  a  full-grown  man.  Willie's  mother  went 
out  into  the  street,  and  with  her  bundle  in  one  hand,  held 
under  her  worsted  shawl,  and  her  thick  vail  held  down  by 
the  other,  she  walked  as  rapidly  as  she  could  to  the  tailoring 
establishment  of  Mr.  Ashmore.  She  delivered  up  her  work, 
and  was  paid  in  hard  silver  for  her  all-night's  toil.  It  was 
but  a  small  sum,  it  is  true,  but  sufficient,  and  more  than 
enough,  to  buy  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  few  sweet  cakes  at  the 
baker's,  and  a  few  billets  of  wood  for  her  stove,  and  some 
hyson  tea.  She  made  a  single  bundle  of  them  all,  except 
the  tea  and  the  cakes ;  the  clean,  sawed  wood  and  the  loaf 
of  bread  she  wrapped  together  in  a  piece  of  brown  paper, 
tied  around  with  a  string;  the  little  paper  of  tea  and  the 


260  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

cakes  she  placed  in  her  frock-pocket.  With  her  load  car 
ried  under  her  shawl  as  she  had  carried  the  tailor's  work, 
she  could  not  walk  so  fast,  nor  could  she  hold  down  the 
vail  so  carefully.  The  wind  was  blowing  hard  against  her, 
and  she  had,  at  times,  to  lean  forward  to  resist  its  power; 
and  the  snow  had  began  to  fall  in  broad  flakes.  There 
were  not  many  people  stirring  in  the  streets,  or,  at  least, 
in  that  part  of  the  city  where  she  then  was ;  but  there  were 
several  early  risers,  who  had  already  been  to  market,  and 
were  returning  home  with  their  baskets  filled  with  provi- 
sions, and  among  the  latter  whom  she  encountered  was  the 
preacher  Alfred  Orton.  This  was  several  weeks  before  he 
had  put  out  little  Johnny's  eye  with  the  fork,  and  he  still 
stood  fair  in  the  community  at  large,  although  there  were 
some  who  whispered  their  opinion  in  their  neighbor's  ears, 
that  "he  was  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing,"  and  that  if  his 
Church  did  not  look  sharp,  the  wolf  would,  Some  day  or 
other,  eat  up  the  little  lambs,  if  not  the  sheep  themselves. 

As  Mr.  Orton  approached  nearer  the  widow,  whom  he  had 
never  in  his  life  seen  before,  the  wind  tore  her  vail  from 
her  grasp,  and  sent  it  flying  through  the  air  like  a  topsail 
whipped  from  the  topmast  by  a  sudden  squall.  Her  vail, 
thus  rudely  torn  away  by  the  rough  hand  of  the  old  storm- 
king,  left  her  beauty,  surpassing  all  the  boasted  loveliness 
of  the  Venus  de  Medici,  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  the  aston- 
ished and  lustful  Alfred  Orton.  Never  had  such  transcend- 
ent beauty,  almost  regal  in  its  aspect,  burst  upon  his  delighted 
vision  so  suddenly  before. 

"  Ye  gods,"  he  said  within  himself,  "  I  have  seen  beautiful 
women  in  my  time,  but  I  have  never  seen  such  a  liouri  as 
this.  To  think,  too,  of  its  being  covered  up  with  such 
somber  black,  to  conceal,  with  widowed  weeds,  the  loveli- 
ness of  a  Madonna  !  But  hush,  my  thoughts  !  lie  still,  my 
heart !  nor  let  my  face  portray  the  lustful  passions  of  my 
soul.'.' 

He  smiled,  or  endeavored  to  smile,  very  benignantly  upon 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  261 

the  manifest  distress  and  embarrassment  of  the  stranger, 
then  ran  after  the  vail,  and  took  it  down  from  a  lamp-post, 
around  which  it  finally  wound  itself.  When  he  returned 
he  handed  her  the  truant  vail,  and  assisted  her,  with  his 
own  hand,  to  readjust  it  upon  her  bonnet;  and  was  thanked 
for  his  kindness  by  a  sweet  smile,  which  Kev.  Alfred  Orton 
thought  was  the  sweetest  smile  he  had  ever  seen  upon  the 
lips  of  a  woman.  Perceiving  that  she  carried  quite  a  large 
and  rather  weighty  bundle  under  her  arm,  he  very  gallantly 
insisted  upon  taking  it  from  her,  and  carrying  it  himself 
as  far  as  her  door.  In  vain  did  she  protest  against  such 
inconvenience  to  himself;  in  vain  decline  his  proposal  to 
accompany  her  home.  Mr.  Orton  was  not  to  be  balked  thus 
in  his  gallant  and  apparently  benevolent  intentions.  He 
assured  her  that  it  was  his  business  and  his  solemn  duty 
to  assist  the  needy  and  the  distressed  ;  that  he  was  only  a 
poor,  despised  minister — an  humble  minister  of  the  Gospel — 
and  how  could  he  perform  his  duty  toward  his  fellow-creat- 
ures better  than  to  assist  her  with  her  bundle,  and  enable 
her  to  reach  her  home  as  speedily  as  possible,  and  find  shel- 
ter from  the  increasing;  snow-storm  ? 

The  mention  of  his  calling — the  name  of  minister — was, 
to  the  poor  widow,  a  holy  name ;  and  instead  of  making 
any  further  objections,  she  rejoiced  in  her  heart  that  she 
had  found  such  a  friend,  who  could  indeed  afford  her  great 
assistance,  and  enable  her  to  reach  her  home,  and  see  again 
her  darling  Willie  much  sooner  than  she  could  otherwise 
have  done.  So  Mr.  Orton  walked  by  her  side,  and  carried 
his  basket  of  provisions  in  one  hand  and  her  bundle  in  the 
other.  When  she  reached  the  low  stoop  of  her  humble 
dwelling,  she  thanked  him  for  his  kindness  with  such  a 
sweet  smile,  and  with  such  grateful  sincerity,  that  he  felt 
his  heart  almost  leap  into  his  mouth.  But^  although  he  did 
not  then  offer  to  enter  the  house,  he  requested  permission, 
indeed,  declared  his  intention,  to  call  again  to  see  her  ;  and 
hoped  that  the  acquaintance,  thus  providentially  formed  in 


262  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

the  street,  might  grow  into  intimacy  and  friendship.  And 
the  widow  said  yes  ;  that  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  was  most 
welcome  at  her  humble  house.  But,  before  leaving,  Mr. 
Orton  insisted,  and  positively  refused  to  take  any  denial, 
that  she  should  receive  from  his  hands  a  portion  of  the 
market  supplies — his  piece  of  veal,  and  a  few  Irish  potatoes, 
and  a  plate  of  fresh  butter  ;  for  he  had  an  abundance  of 
everything  he  wanted ;  and  if  he  lacked  anything,  could  he 
not  easily  send  out  and  get  more  from  some  one  of  his 
parishioners,  if  need  be  ?  And,  besides,  ought  she  not  to 
accept,  as  a  gift,  his  first  offering  of  friendship  ?  for  they 
were  already  no  move  strangers,  but  friends. 

How  could  she  refuse,  when  his  gifts  were  thus  forced 
upon  her?  and  Low  could  she  suspect  his  villany,  when 
his  handsome  face  seemed  so  frank,  and  his  words  so  loyal  ? 

That  very  night  Mr.  Orton  knocked  at  that  same  door, 
which  was  opened  by  the  unsuspecting  young  woman ;  who, 
although  a  little  surprised  to  see  him  again  so  soon  after 
their  first  meeting,  nevertheless  answered  his  salutations 
with  her  usual  habitual  sweet  smile,  and  welcomed  his  com- 
ing as  a  friend.  For,  had  she  not  a  right  to  look  upon  him 
already  as  a  new-formed  and  most  beneficent  friend,  whom 
God  had  suddenly  raised  up  for  her  ?  For,  had  she  not 
that  very  day  received  a  load  of  nice  sawed  wood,  which 
the  woodman  had  brought  to  her  door,  and,  with  his  own 
hands,  put  away  in  the  woodhouse  adjoining  the  kitchen? 
And  when  she  insisted  that  he  must  have  made  a  mistake, 
did  he  not  declare  that  there  was  no  mistake  about  it,  for 
he  had  been  paid  to  do  so  by  Preacher  Orton  ? 

Surely  God  had  raised  up  a  very  kind  friend  in  behalf 
of  the  poor  widow  !.  Nay,  nay,  not  a  kind  friend  ;  but  God 
had  made  him  send,  nevertheless,  the  load  of  wood  and  the 
provisions.  For  God  had  promised  to  feed  the  widow  and 
the  fatherless  ;  and  did  then  as  he  has  often  done  before, 
and  will  do  again,  make  the  very  devil  himself  feed,  and 
clothe,  and  minister  to  the  wants  of  his  poor  children.     It 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  2G3 

is  true  that  the  devil,  in  doing  so,  in  bestowing  alms  upon 
the  poor,  and  distributing  his  charities  with  a  most  lavish 
hand,  never  does  it  without  expecting  to  be  well  paid  for 
his  expense  and  trouble.  If  he  gives  like  a  prince,  of  course 
he  expects  to  receive  great  favors — a  priceless  jewel — an 
immortal  soul,  in  return.  But  Satan  is  most  wretchedly 
self-deceived,  and  becomes  the  dupe  of  his  own  rascality ; 
for,  after  making  himself  almost  bankrupt  by  his  benefices 
and  his  charities,  God  kindly  reaches  forth  his  hand,  and 
saves  the  victim  from  his  grasp. 

Just  so  with  Alfred  Orton,  who,  although  a  reverend,  was 
the  devil  in  disguise — "the  gentleman  in  black!"  He  was 
dressed  in  a  decent  suit  of  black  broadcloth,  and  wore  a 
white  cravat,  which  made  him  look,  at  least,  very  much  like 
a  clergyman.  Why,  therefore,  should  she  be  afraid?  But 
are  there  not  those  who  look  like  lambs,  while  they  are  only 
wolves  in  sheep's  clothing,  who  devour  widow's  houses?  who 
look  like  the  archangel  Gabriel,  when  they  are  the  arch-fiend 
himself — the  devil  in  disguise  or  en  masquerade  ?  While,  on 
the  other  hand,  there  are  some  who  look  very  little  like 
ministers  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  wear  no  ostentatious  regalia, 
no  white  cravats  nor  black  gowns,  and  seem,  in  appearance, 
as  other  men,  "with  like  passions  as  ourselves,"  who  are, 
indeed,  the  great  harbingers  of  the  Gospel  and  evangelizers 
of  the  world  ! 

Mr.  Orton  seated  himself  by  the  stove  until  he  became 
quite  warm,  talking  upon  a  variety  of  topics,  and  making 
inquiries,  as  most  inquisitive  Yankees  do,  whether  born  north 
or  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line.  lie  expressed  himself 
as  being  deeply  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the  young  widow ; 
until,  drawing  his  chair  close  up  to  hers,  he  passed  his  arm 
around  her  waist,  and  attempted  to  draw  her  to  him  !  Like 
a  scared  fawn  which  leaps  high  into  the  air  at  the  sudden 
alarm  of  tjie  rattlesnake,  or  a  young  maiden  frightened  by 
the  cold,  slimy  touch  of  some  hideous  and  deadly  reptile, 
she  started  to  her  feet,  and  sprang  from  the  desecrating  touch 


264  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  )    OR, 

of  the  libertine.  She  trembled  very  violently  at  first,  but 
in  a  little  while  she  regained  all  her  womanly  control,  and, 
drawing  herself  up  to  her  full  hight,  she  resembled  then, 
more  than  ever,  the  majestic  Marie  Antoinette,  when,  standing 
upon  the  scaffold  before  the  multitude  of  her  enemies,  the 
executioner  drew  off  from  her  shoulders  the  scarf  which  had 
concealed  her  voluptuous  breasts,  and  left  her  exposed  to 
the  obscene  gaze  of  countless  thousands !  If  Marie  An- 
toinette blushed  then  till  she  was  crimson,  and  if,  with  the 
dignity  of  a  martyred  queen  and  an  outraged  woman,  she 
bade  the  executioner  do  his  work  quickly,  so  that  he  became 
so  awe-struck  by  her  majesty  that  he  could  scarcely  perform 
his  office  ;  no  less  embarrassed,  and  confused,  and  awe-struck 
was  the  libertine,  Alfred  Orton,  who  stood  on  the  floor  like 
a  culprit  arrayed  for  condemnation  before  an  awful  and 
indignant  empress  !  With  queenly  dignity  she  pointed  to 
the  door,  and  bade  him  begone  from  her  sight  and  presence 
forever !  He  took  up  his  hat  mechanically,  and  obeyed  the 
order  with  the  look  of  a  slave  who  has  been  caught  in  the 
act  of  robbery,  or  as  a  "  suck-egg  cur  "  who  has  been  robbing 
the  hen-roost,  and  sees  the  poultry -raiser  coming  with  a  lash 
or  a  cudgel  in  his  hand. 

When  he  was  gone  the  widow  sat  down,  or  rather  sunk 
into  a  chair  and  sobbed  as  though  her  heart  would  break  ! 
sobbed  so  loud  that  little  Willie,  who  had  dropped  to  sleep 
upon  the  settee,  awoke,  and  surprised  his  mother  in  her  tears 
and  her  sobs. 

"What  is  the  matter,  mamma?  Don't  cry  so,"  said  the 
little  boy,  soothingly,  while  big  tears  gathered  in  his  eyes 
at  the  sight  of  his  mother  weeping. 

n  j^  great  deal — and  yet  not  much  either,  is  the  matter, 
my  child,"  his  mother  replied,  drying  up  her  tears  almost 
in  a  moment.  "  A  strange  man,  who  gave  his  name  as  Orton 
— whether  true  or  false  I  know  not — whom  I  took  to  be  a 
preacher  of  the  Gospel,  but  I  now  know  to  be  a  villain  !  whom 
1  took  to  be  a  sincere  friend  in  my  need,  but  whom  I  now 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  265 

know  to  be  my  bitterest  enemy — lie,  my  son,  has  offered 
your  mother  a  great  indignity,  the  nature  of  which  you 
can  not  understand.  He  has  insulted  your  mother  grossly! 
wronged  a  defenseless  woman  deeply!" 

"Insulted  you,  mamma!  "  said  Willie,  whose  eyes  burned 
and  flashed  with  indignation.  "Never  mind,  mamma;  wait 
till  your  little  Willie  gets  to  be  a  big,  high  man,  and  Willie  will 
lick  him  !   lick  him  !  lick  him  !  " 

"  Not  so,  my  son  ;"  said  Willie's  mother,  who,  during  her 
widowhood,  if  she  was  never  before,  had  become  a  sincere, 
and  devoted,  and  humble  Christian — "  not  so,  my  son ;  for 
'  Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord  ! '  God 
will  bring  that  man  yet  into  judgment,  and  that  is  greater, 
and  juster,  and  more  terrible  punishment  than  any  mortal 
man,  however  vengeful,  can  inflict !  Let  him  be,  my  son, 
in  the  hands  of  the  Lord.  For  although  his  rope  may  be 
long,  and  he  may  foolishly  think  that  it  has  no  end,  it  will 
bring  him  to  at  last  with  a  sudden  jerk  which  shall  fill  him 
with  amazement  and  consternation  !  For  the  doom  of  the 
libertine  is  a  sudden  and  a  violent  death,  and  an  awful  and 
eternal  perdition!" 

It  was  only  a  few  days  after  this  that  Mr.  Orton  was  in 
the  tailoring  establishment  of  Mr.  Ashmore,  ordering  a  suit 
of  clothes.  He  was  about  to  leave  the  shop,  when  our 
widow,  dressed  in  the  same  black  frock  and  black  vail, 
came  out  of  the  back  room  with  a  bundle  in  her  hand,  a 
vest  pattern,  already  cut  out,  which  had  been  given  her  by 
the  foreman  to  make  up  soon.  Mr.  Orton  felt  his  heart 
grow  spiteful  and  vindictive,  and  he  determined  upon  a  little 
revenge.  It  was  a  small  act,  it  is  true;  very  little,  and 
mean,  and  contemptible  in  a  manly  spirit,  but  momentous 
in  its  consequences  to  the  poor  needle-woman  and  her  little 
boy  if  successful ;  for  it  might  deprive  them  of  every  resource 
by  which  to  gain  an  honest  livelihood  !  deprive  them  of  their 
daily  bread,  and  let  them  starve  and  freeze  to  death  in  tho 
almost  ice-bound  walls  of  their  humble  dwelling ! 
12 


266  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

With  a  mischievous  leer  in  his  eye,  and  a  sardonic  smile 
upon  his  lips,  Mr.  Orton  went  up  to  Mr.  Ashmore,  and  asked  : 
"Do  you  know,"  said  he,  in  a  whisper,  "what  kind  of  a  woman 
that  is  whom  you  are  encouraging  in  a  life  of  sin  by  thus 
giving  her  employment  for  her  needle?" 

"What  kind  of  a  woman  is  she,  Mr.  Orton?"  asked  Mr. 
Ashmore,  in  surprise,  for  he  had  been  giving  her  employment 
for  more  than  a  year,  and  he  had  not  only  been  pleased  with 
the  neatness  and  dispatch  of  her  work,  but  had  been  very 
much  struck  with  her  modest  and  lady-like  deportment. 
"  What  kind  of  a  woman  is  she,  Mr.  Orton  ?  "  he  asked  again. 

"  Why,  sir,  I  calculate  that  she  is  a  very  bad  woman !  a 
common  harlot,  sir  !  " 

"  I  not  only  doubt  your  statement,  but  disbelieve  it  alto- 
gether !  "  said  Mr.  Ashmore.  "No  common  woman,  no 
harlot,  sir,  would  come  to  my  establishment  for  work.  That 
class  of  women  are  too  idle  and  dissolute  in  their  habits ; 
and  she  is  too  beautiful  a  woman  to  need  employment  with 
her  needle  if  she  chose  to  live  the  life  of  a  prostitute  !  Her 
price  would  be  high,  very  high  !  and  she  could  make  a  fortune 
at  the  business  in  the  moral  and  religious  city  of  Boston  ! 
Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Orton?" 

Mr.  Ashmore  said  this  with  a  sneer ;  and,  for  the  first 
time  since  his  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Orton,  he  began  to 
analyze  and  study  the  features  of  the  reverend  gentleman  in 
his  presence ;  and  he  came  to  the  very  correct  conclusion 
that  he  was  talking  with  none  other  than  a  cold-hearted 
villain,  "a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing."  The  result  of  his 
scrutiny  confused  the  clerical  libertine  so  much  that  he 
added  hastily,  and  with  evident  embarrassment,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  with  much  apparent  earnestness : 

"  I  can  assure  you,  sir,  upon  the  honor  of  a  gentleman 
and  a  clergyman,  that  what  I  tell  you  is  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  so  help  me  God ! " 

Mr.  Ashmore's  only  reply  was  to  put  the  forefinger  of 
his  right  hand  upon  the  right  side  of  his  long  nose,  and 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  267 

smile  with  that  peculiar  twinkle  of  the  eyes  which  only  a 
man  can  assume  who  has  discovered  very  suddenly  another 
man's  secret,  and  wishes  to  let  him  know,  without  saying  a 
word,  '•  I  have  found  you  out.  You  can't  gull  me.  Can  't 
come  it,  old  fellow  !  " 

0,  Rev.  Alfred  Orton  !  you  overdid  the  thing,  with  all 
your  Yankee  ingenuity.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  being  a 
little  tor,  ingenious.  The  serpent  will  let  himself  be  known 
by  his  hiss,  crawl  he  never  so  stealthily,  when  he  is  going 
to  strike.  It  is  only  poetry,  absurd  nonsense,  to  say  that 
the  rattlesnake  is  the  noblest  of  the  serpent-kind,  because 
he  gives  warning  with  his  rattles  before  he  makes  his  deadly 
spring.  It  is  not  the  nobleness  of  his  nature,  but  the  fierce- 
ness of  his  anger,  which  makes  him  ring  so  loud  his  stun- 
ning battle-cry.  All  serpents,  before  they  strike,  lick  forth 
the  tongue  and  hiss  their  deadly  hiss,  not  as  a  warning,  but 
because  of  their  eternal  hatred  and  antagonism  to  mankind. 
And  Mr.  Orton  hissed  out  his  snake-like  hiss  into  Mr.  Ash- 
more's  ears  because  he  hated  innocence  and  truth,  and  had 
been  baflled  in  his  villany  by  the  indignant  virtue  and  in- 
sulted honor  of  a  noble-minded,  right-hearted  woman. 

Look  sharp,  Mr.  Orton  !  The  hiss  of  the  serpent,  crawl 
it  never  so  stealthily,  foretells  its  coming,  and  warns  its 
victim,  or  some  one  else  outside  the  bush,  that  the  serpent 
has  drawn  back  its  head  to  make  its  death-spring  or  give 
its  death-blow  !  and  shall  give  power  to  the  heel  of  the 
man,  that  he  may  crush  and  grind  in  the  dust  the  head  of 
the  serpent. 

"That  man  is  a  villain!"  said  Mr.  Ashmore,  between  his 
clinched  teeth,  as  Mr.  Orton  left  the  establishment.  "  He 
hates  that  poor  widow,  for  some  cause  which  he  would  be 
unwilling  to  have  known.  Cease  to  employ  her,  indeed !  I 
shall  increase  the  price  of  her  work;  for  God  forgive  me 
if,  in  order  to  support  my  family  and  make  money,  I  have 
hitherto  made  her  do  work  too  cheaply,  and  thus  robbed 
the  widow  and  the  orphan  !" 


268  OLD  TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

Thus  a  second  time  was  Mr.  Orton  baffled  and  defeated 
in  his  iniquitous  designs  ;  and  God,  in  his  providence,  caused 
good  to  come  out  of  evil,  and  proved  himself,  in  reality,  the 
Friend  of  the  widow  and  the  Father  of  the  fatherless  or- 
phan. / 


TIIE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  2G9 


CHAPTER   VI. 

5*f HE  Sabbath  bells  were  chiming;  those  heavenly  bells 
of  which  the  poet  has  spoken  with  rapture,  and  to 
@gp  which  the  Christian  ever  listens  with  joy  and  holy  grat- 
*%>*     itude.     How  sweet  their  music !  how  prolonged  their 

to  r  a 

echoes  !  The  Mohammedan  sentry,  from  the  hights 
of  his  mosque,  cries,  "  Allah  il  Allah!  To  prayers!  to 
prayers!"  and  the  worshipers  of  the  false  prophet  answer, 
"  Allah  il  Allah!  There  is  no  God  but  Allah,  and  Mo- 
hammed is  his  prophet!"  falling  prostrate  to  the  earth,  or 
upon  their  knees,  with  their  faces  turned  toward  the  city 
of  Mecca.  But  the  Sabbath  bells  of  a  Christian  land  sing 
the  song  of  "the  Lamb  slain  for  the  sins  of  the  world." 
They,  too,  cry,  although  in  another  tongue,  and  with  a  more 
hopeful  voice,  "  Allah  il  Allah!"  but  they  add,  with  sweet 
emphasis,  "  Jesus  Christ  is  the  only  begotten  Son  of  God ; 
and  whosoever  believeth  in  him  shall  in  no  wise  perish!" 
The  preacher  of  salvation,  echoing  the  words  of  the  blessed 
Savior,  cries,  "Come  unto  me,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth,  and 
be  ye  saved !  "  and  the  Sabbath  bells  echo  back  the  invi- 
tation, "  Come  !  come  !  come  !  "  It  is  their  never-failing  cry, 
their  only  voice.  They  seem  never  weary  of  saying,  "  Come  ! 
come!  come!"  Each  returning  Sabbath  that  single  word 
of  welcome  as  of  warning  is  heard  pealing  all  over  the  city, 
and  all  over  our  Gospel  land,  crying,  "Come!  come!  come!" 
But  what  different  answers  are  given  by  different  charac- 
ters of  persons.     "I  am  coming,"  says   the  humble  soul; 


270  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

"God  give  me  strength  to  come  humbly  to  a  throne  of 
grace!"  "I  am  coming,"  says  the  Pharisee,  with  lofty 
head  and  haughty  look  ;  "  do  n't  you  see  that  I  am  coming? 
Out  of  my  way  there,  ye  publicans  and  sinners  !  Do  n't  you 
pee  that  /  am  coming?"  "I  am  coming,"  says  the  fash- 
ionable woman,  standing  before  the  mirror ;  "  but  let  me 
finish  my  toilet,  will  you?  A  body  must  take  time  to  dress. 
I  know  I  shall  be  a  little  late,  but,  after  all,  I  shall  only 
miss  the  prayers  or  the  '  first  lesson ; '  and  anybody  can  say 
their  prayers  or  read  their  Bible  at  home  in  a  few  minutes." 
"Come!  come!  come!"  says  the  church-bell.  "  Just  wait 
a  little  while,  will  you?  Don't  be  so  very  impatient.  If 
I  do  miss  hearing  the  text,  I  shall  find  out  from  my  neigh- 
bor in  the  next  pew,  who  is  always  there  in  time."  "  Come  ! 
come !  "  says  the  church-bell,  very  mournfully  now,  and 
with  more  feeble  voice,  as  the  last  strokes  of  the  hammer 
ring  upon  the  metal,  like  the  last  notes  of  the  dying  swan. 
"Come,"  it  says,  "0  come!"  "Just  one  minute  more.  I 
know  that  I  am  late,  and  not  near  dressed  yet ;  but  I  shall 
be  there  in  time  to  hear  the  preacher  say  "Amen!"  when 
he  has  finished  his  sermon." 

"I  am  coming,"  says  the  mercenary  business  man.  "  By 
the  way,  I  shall  see  Colonel  Jones  there  to-day,  and  I  must 
not  forget  to  ask  him  about  a  certain  little  business  trans- 
action in  which  I  am  deeply  interested." 

"  I  am  coming,"  said  Bev.  Alfred  Orton,  just  before  he 
put  out  little  Johnny's  eye  with  the  fork.  But  Bev.  Alfred 
Orton  did  not  come,  never  came,  but  went  away  in  a  great 
hurry  from  the  city  of  Boston.  But,  although  the  people 
of  Boston  never  saw  him  more,  yet  we — the  reader  and  the 
author  —  as  we  are  traveling  to  and  fro,  from  North  to 
South — we  shall  see  him  frequently  in  our  travels. 

"Come!  come!  come!"  were  the  last  sweet  notes  of  the 
Sabbath  bell.  "I  am  coming,"  said  the  poor  widow — our 
widow — in  faint  tones,  and  with  feeble  steps,  as  she  moved 
slowly  on  through  the  now  almost  deserted  streets,  holding 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  271 

little  Willie  by  the  hand,  more  to  steady  her  own  footsteps 
than  to  guide  her  little  boy.  She  had  been  sick,  and  she 
was  doing  very  wrong  to  go  out  so  early.  Ever  since  that 
memorable  morning  when  she  had  gone  to  the  tailor's  to 
return  the  work  upon  which  she  had  been  sewing  the  live- 
long night,  the  young  widow  had  not  been  well.  She  had 
contracted  a  very  bad  cough,  which  troubled  her  so  much, 
and  made  her  so  very  weak,  that  she  stopped,  one  day,  at 
the  office  of  a  kind-hearted  physician,  and  got  him  to  pre- 
scribe for  her.  At  that  first  interview,  he  became  so  deeply 
interested  in  his  lovely  patient  that  he  took  down  her  name 
and  address,  and  the  next  day  called  to  see  her  at  her  own 
home,  where  he  found  her  in  bed.  Like  a  good  Samaritan, 
he  visited  her  often  and  nursed  her  well,  not  only  without 
hope  of  reward,  but  furnished  her  with  many  little  comforts 
which  he  could  only  procure  for  her  with  his  private  purse. 
The  woodman  was  sent  there  with  a  load  of  wood ;  the 
baker  was  ordered  to  furnish  her  bread  every  morning,  and 
to  carry  it  himself  to  the  door  ;  and  the  doctor's  boy  carried 
many  little  luxuries  which  the  doctor  himself  had  abstracted 
from  his  wife's  closet  of  conserves  and  confectioneries  with- 
out her  knowledge.  Verily,  doctors  of  medicine  are  char- 
itable men,  who  do  alms  without  letting  their  left  hand 
know  what  their  right  hand  doeth,  or  vice  versa ;  and  there 
is  no  city  in  the  world  which  possesses  more  charitable 
physicians  than  the  ancient  city  of  Boston.  But  our  phy- 
sician, Dr.  Boring,  stood  a  head  and  shoulders  above  his 
brethren  in  his  charitable  deeds.  He  was  rather  rough,  it 
is  true,  in  his  manners,  and  some  thought  him  unkind.  How 
could  they  think  so  ?  Are  words  always  the  symbols  of  a 
man's  kindness  of  heart?  Do  not  "actions  speak  louder 
than  words?" 

The  good  Doctor  Boring  had  urged  our  widow — nameless 
so  far,  and,  for  a  little  while  longer,  she  shall  be  nameless 
still — to  be  very  careful  and  not  leave  the  house  for  some 
time  to  come.      But  she   felt  a  great  deal   better  on  that 


272  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

Sabbath  morning,  and  the  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and  the 
Sabbath  bells  were  singing,  "  Come  !  come !  come  ! "  How 
then  could  she  resist  their  invitation,  so  often  repeated, 
their  song  so  sweetly  sung?  Those  bells  sounded  to  her 
heart  like  the  voice  of  her  Savior,  saying  from  heaven,  as 
he  leaned  over  its  battlements,  and  looked  down  so  affec- 
tionately into  the  widow's  cot:  "Come!  come  unto  me, 
poor,  lonely,  friendless  woman,  and  I  will  be  your  husband, 
and  lover,  and  friend!"  And  she  said,  in  her  heart  of 
hearts  :  "  Yes,  Lord  !  I  come  quickly,  gladly  !  " 

But  her  strength  failed  her  on  the  way,  and  she  felt  that 
she  was  not  able  to  walk  so  far  to  the  humble  church  to 
which  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  going  for  a  good  while 
past,  to  listen  to  the  earnest  voice  and  fatherly  tones  of  a 
godly  and  God-fearing  old  man. 

"I  will  go  in  here,"  she  said  to  herself.  "It  is  a  grand 
church,  and  only  very  rich  people  go  here.  But  God  is 
everywhere,  and  I  trust  that  the  wings  of  his  cherubim  and 
seraphim  hover  over  the  altar  of  this  tabernacle,  built  by 
the  rich,  but  dedicated  to  the  worship  of  Almighty  God ; 
for  the  rich  can  serve  God  with  as  honest  and  sincere 
hearts  as  the  poor.  Why  not?  But,  ah  me!  not  all  of 
them — very  few  !  for  Christ  said  :  '  It  is  easier  for  a 
camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  than  for  a  rich 
man  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  Better,  then,  to  be 
afflicted  with  poverty;  for  'whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chas- 
teneth,  and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth.'  Bet- 
ter, then,  to  be  poor  and  despised,  if  we  are  made  to  love 
the  Lord  Jesus  as  he  loves  the  poor.  But,  ah  me !  I  was 
rich  once,  and  did  not  love  nor  serve  him  then  !  and  now 
that  I  am  poor,  and  I  know  that  he  loves  me,  I  do  not  serve 
him  as  I  ought !  0,  God !  what  shall  I  render  to  thee  for 
all  thy  goodness  to  a  poor,  weak  sinner.  Help  me,  Lord  ! 
for  in  thee  alone  is  my  trust !  " 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  the  sexton  did  not  see 
them,  as  he  conducted   her,  with   stately  step,  to  a  vacant 


THE    ABOLmONIST    AKH    THE     LAND-PIRATE.  273 

pew— the  "stranger's  pew."  And  well  for  her,  too,  that 
her  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears,  that  she  could  not  see 
through  them  and  the  thickness  of  her  black  vail  the  sex- 
ton's look  of  contemptuous  surprise,  and  the  astonishment 
of  the  congregation,  many  of  whom  turned  round  and  gazed 
for  a  moment,  but  wondering  a  good  while  "what  curiosity 
that  was  who  had  come  in  black  "  to  a  church  of  gay  col- 
ors, where  only  the  rich  and  the  fashionable  attended ! 

But  if  any  of  that  vast  assembly  felt  disdainfully  proud 
and  arrogant,  not  so  with  the  preacher,  who  was  just  ad- 
vancing toward  the  sacred  desk  for  the  purpose  of  reading 
his  text,  He  looked  toward  the  lady  in  black  with  a  sweet 
smile  of  welcome,  such  as  we  may  imagine  Jesus  Christ  to 
have  assumed  when  he  said:  "Come  unto  me,  ye  weary  and 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  But  she  did  not 
see  the  smile  upon  his  beautiful,  heaven-brcathed  lips;  for 
her  head  was  drooping  low,  and  her  eyes  closed  as  she  sat 
upon  her  seat,  with  her  hands  clasped  beneath  her  vail  in 
earnest,  fervent  prayer— praying  to  the  widow's  God. 

And  now,  with  a  solemn  look,  the  preacher  cast  his  eyes 
down  upon  the  large  Bible  lying  upon  the  desk  before  him. 
Then  was  heard  the  sweetness  of  a  voice,  clear  and  distinct, 
which  floated  like  music  over  the  heads  of  the  congrega- 
tion, rising  upward  to  the  vaulted  ceiling,  and  filling  the 
whole  house  with  melodious  accents,  but  without  a  single 
jarring  echo,  like  the  music  of  a  heaven-bought  harp,  in 
perfect  unison  with  the  grandest  tones  of  the  organ.  Who 
is  that  preacher?  Never  mind  his  name  now,  but  listen  to 
the  words  of  his  text,  and  hearken  to  his  exposition  of  it : 

"  Then  came  the  soldiers,  and  brake  the  legs  of  the  first, 
and  of  the  other  which  was  crucified  with  him.  But  when 
they  came  to  Jesus  and  saw  that  he  was  dead  already,  they 
brake  not  his  legs :  but  one  of  the  soldiers  with  a  spear 
pierced  his  side,  and  forthwith  came  thereout  blood  and 
water." — John  xix  :  32-35. 

Hark   to  that  voice!      The   "lady  in    black"    raised  her 
12* 


274  OLD  TONEY  AND   HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

head  suddenly,  like  one  who  is  startled  by  the  mention  of  a 
name,  or  the  voice  of  a  loved  one  which  has  not  been  heard 
for  long  years.  She  trembled  violently  upon  her  seat,  and 
had,  at  one  time,  to  reach  forth  her  hands  and  lean  forward, 
holding  on  for  support  to  the  back  of  the  pew  in  front  of 
her. 

"It  is  he!"  said  she;  "0,  God!  it  is  he!  Sanford ! 
Julius  !  but  older,  by  ten  years,  although  but  three  have 
passed  away  since  wTe  last  met !  Three  long,  weary  years  ! 
Ah  !  how  they  have  thinned  his  temples,  and  sprinkled  with 
gray  hairs  his  once  raven  locks  !  He  seems  now  like  a  man 
of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief!" 

And  Mrs.  Williston — for  it  was  she — held  on  to  the  back 
of  the  pew  with  convulsive  energy,  like  Marie  Antoinette 
holding  on  to  the  rusty  bars  of  the  Tower,  looking  down 
upon  her  husband  as  he  entered  the  carriage,  and  following, 
with  her  eyes,  the  vehicle  which  bore  away  her  husband  and 
her  king  to  the  scaffold,  and  gazing  after  it  still  with  vacant 
look,  when  it  was  gone  from  her  sight  forever  ;  and  when  she 
could  see  it  no  more,  the  poor,  persecuted  queen  of  France 
stasfcrered  back  to  her  arm-chair,  and  fell  into  her  seat 
without  a  groan  or  a  single  cry  of  distress  that  a  single 
enemy  could  hear.  And  so,  too,  Mrs.  Williston  fell  back 
against  her  pew,  and  listened,  with  breathless  attention,  to 
every  word  which  proceeded  from  the  lips  of  the  eloquent 
divine,  who  had  abandoned  his  seat  in  Congress,  and  given 
up  a  lucrative  practice  at  the  bar,  to  talk  to  his  dying  fel- 
low-men about  Jesus  Christ.  She  drank  in  his  every  word 
now,  and  looked  and  listened  as  a  loving  woman  to  her 
dying  husband,  who,  with  his  hand  in  hers,  is  giving  his 
last  earthly  advice,  and  telling  his  last  adieus.  And  none 
of  all  that  crowd  knew  how  near  she  had  been  to  fainting. 
Nof  one  knew  her  secret,  and  not  a  single  one  could  have 
suspected  how  near  and  dear  had  been  the  relations  of  the 
humble  widow  and  the  man  of  God  who  was  so  earnestly 
breaking  to  them  the  bread  of  life. 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  275 

The  first  argument  of  Mr.  Sanford  was  to  show  that  Jesus 
Christ  did  not  die  of  the  physical  sufferings  which  he  endured 
upon  the  cross.  "These,"  he  said,  "were  of  the  most  excru- 
ciating character  ;  for  he  was  a  perfect  man  of  the  finest 
mental  and  physical  organization  ;  and  to  such  a  one,  we 
may  reasonably  suppose,  that  the  tortures  of  crucifixion  were 
painful  in  the  extreme.  That  he  suffered  those  pains  is 
evident,  from  the  thirst  which  he  complained  of,  and  which 
is  always  attendant  upon  severe  wounds  and  agonizing  pains 
of  the  body.  It  was  common  to  hear  the  cry,  '  I  thirst,' 
when  a  malefactor  was  suspended  from  the  cross.  But  as 
the  victims  of  the  law  were  suspended  too  high  in  the  air 
for  any  one  below  to  hand  them  up  a  cup  of  water,  vinegar 
upon  a  sponge  was  usually  provided  to  moisten  their  lips, 
and  quench,  for  a  moment,  tjieir  raging  thirst ;  not  to  relieve, 
but  in  order  to  protract  their  sufferings.  But  in  the  case 
of  Jesus  Christ,  it  was  in  mockery  and  hatred  that  they 
answered  his  appeal  for  relief,  by  mingling  the  vinegar  with 
gall,  which  was,  doubtless,  the  suggestion,  the  refined  cruelty, 
of  some  one  of  the  wicked  Jewish  priesthood,  who  had  pre- 
viously ordered  the  vinegar — perhaps  reserved  in  a  separate 
vessel  for  his  special  use — 'vinegar  mingled  with  gall,'  or 
vinegar  steeped  with  wormwood. 

"  In  a  physical  point  of  view,  therefore,"  said  Mr.  Sanford, 
"  our  Lord  suffered  all  the  agonies  which  a  martyr  endures 
at  the  stake,  or  upon  the  gibbet.  But  his  death  was  pecul- 
iar, and  different  from  any  other  martyr  who  has  ever  per- 
ished for  his  principles.  Not  only  did  he  die  very  suddenly, 
but  he  died  giving  utterance  to  a  loud  voice,  so  that  they 
all  heard  him  cry,  'Eli,  Eli,  lama  sabacthani ! '  Now  it 
was  not  common  for  malefactors  who  were  crucified  to  die 
in  this  manner.  In  others,  the  voice  grew  weaker  and  weaker 
as  they  became  exhausted  by  their  sufferings,  or  as  the  Jife- 
blobd  oozed  slowly  away  from  their  hands  and  their  feet; 
and  had  they  been  able  to  cry  at  all,  it  would  have  been 
but  the  faintest  whisper  of  a  spirit  worn  out  and  exhausted 


276  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

by  pain,  and  unable  to  utter  a  single  dying  complaint.  But 
in  the  case  of  Jesus  Christ  it  was  a  loud  and  a  startling 
voice;  the  voice  of  a  God  dying  upon  Calvary  for  the  sins 
of  the  world,  and  feeling,  in  that  dreadful  hour,  his  peculiar 
lonesomeness,  and  calling  to  his  Father  to  come  back  to  his 
side,  when  he  felt  that  his  Father  had  deserted  him  ;  to  his 
great  Father — God,  who,  overcome  by  his  own  emotions, 
had  stepped  away  from  the  cross,  unable  to  look  upon  the 
cruel  scene,  and  witness  longer  the  agonies  of  his  darling 
Son ;  had  stepped  away  from  the  cross,  to  say  to  the  assembled 
hosts  of  heaven,  who  sat  upon  their  seats,  pale  and  trembling 
with  horror,  '  My  Son,  my  only  Son,  is  dying  V  dying  the 
ignominious  death  of  the  cross  !  dying  for  the  sins  of  the 
people,  and  see  how  they  are  daring  him  !  In  his  thirst  he 
cried  for  water,  and  they  mocked  him  with  vinegar,  mingled 
with  gall.  Well  may  ye  tremble  and  weep,  ye  hosts  of 
heaven,  which  see  my  Son  and  your  Lord  receiving  such 
treatment  at  the  hands  of  those  devils  incarnate  below.' 

"  And  the  great  God,  it  is  said,  hid  the  earth  with  a  thick 
cloud,  so  that  there  was  darkness  over  it  for  the  space  of 
three  hours  ;  and  there  were  thunderings  and  earthquakes, 
and  the  dead  were  let  loose  from  their  graves,  and  came 
also  as  witnesses  to  the  cruelty  of  the  Jews.  Yes !  God, 
the  Almighty  God,  hid  his  face,  and  covered  it  up  with  his 
broad  hand,  so  that,  for  the  space  of  three  long  hours,  he 
looked  not  upon  our  earth  ;  for  three  long  hours  our  sin- 
accursed  world  was  darkened  by  the  withdrawal  of  the 
heavenly  beams  which  radiate  from  the  shining  face  of 
Jehovah  ;  for  three  Ions;  hours  angels  and  men  heard  his 
groans  as  the  thunder,  and  listened  with  amazement  and 
terror  to  that  infinite  grief  which  convulsed  the  world,  so 
that  it  '  reeled  to  and  fro  like  a  drunken  man,'  and  rocked 
like  a  stranded  vessel  which  is  fast  going  to  pieces  at  each 
thump  of  every  returning  wave.  Great  God !  how  infinite 
was  thy  grief  ! 

"  Nor,"  said  Mr.  Sanford,  "can  we  suppose,  for  a  moment, 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  277 

that  our  Savior  died  from  the  effects  of  any  lurking  malady, 
whose  intensity  may  have  been  aggravated,  or  whose  fatal 
power  may  have  been  increased,  by  the  torture  of  cruci- 
fixion. It  is  true,  that  after  death,  when  one  of  the  soldiers 
pierced  his  side,  '  forthwith  came  thereout  blood  and  water.' 
Now,  my  hearers,  this  is  a  a  important  statement,  and  a  very 
remarkable  fact.  If  it  were  not  a  remarkable  fact,  the 
evangelist  would  never  have  noted  it  among  the  other  re- 
markable facts  of  the  crucifixion.  Whence  crime  tJif*  blood 
and  water,  or  bloody  water,  as  some  have  rendered  it  ?  Would 
you  profane  the  subject,  and  disgrace  your  reason,  by  assent- 
ing to  the  false  assertion  of  a  certain  blasphemous  infidel, 
that  your  Lord  and  Master  was  suffering  with  a  diseased 
body,  and  laboring  under  the  effects  of  dropsy  ?  Away  with 
the  thought !  Does  not  his  whole  life  prove  the  falsity  of 
this  assertion,  and  brand  it  as  a  calumny?  Was  he  not 
ever  moving  upon  his  feet  as  an  active,  industrious  man, 
going  'from  place  to  place  doing  good?'  Does  not  his 
whole  history  prove  that,  as  a  man,  he  was  constantly  en- 
gaged in  the  most  indefatigable  labor  ;  and,  from  the  earliest 
period  of  his  life,  at  tAvelve  years,  said  to  his  parents,  who 
sought  him  with  anxiety,  '  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about 
my  Father's  business?' 

"  Yes,  my  brethren,  our  Lord's  life  was  one  of  toil  and 
labor.  Work  !  work  !  work  !  He  was  every  day  and  night 
unceasingly  engaged  in  his  great  Father's  vineyard,  and 
slept  only  from  sheer  exhaustion  and  weariness  of  the  flesh. 
For  what  tempting  and  luxurious  couch  had  he  upon  which 
he  could  recline  at  his  case,  and  rest  his  wearied  frame  ? 
for  '  the  foxes  had  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  had  nests, 
but  the  Son  of  Man  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head.'  It 
was  only  in  the  humble  cottage,  the  hovel,  and  the  bed  of 
the  lowly,  that  he  could  snatch  a  moment's  respite  from 
toil,  and  then  go  on  upon  his  weary  pilgrimage.  It  was 
only  after  preaching  to  five  thousand,  and  feeding  the  mul- 
titude by  a  miracle,  that  he  could  sleep  upon  the  vessel's 


278  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

hard  deck,  where  the  howling  winds  which  were  made  use 
of  as  a  diabolical  lash  in  the  hands  of  the  Prince  of  the  Air, 
to  lash  into  madness  the  angry  waves,  that  they  might  swamp 
that  vessel,  and  sink  that  ship,  which  was  freighted  with 
the  fortunes  and  the  hopes  of  a  world.  It  was  "only  amid 
the  spray  of  the  ocean -lake,  and  the  fierce  whirl  of  waters, 
that  the  Son  of  God  could  sleep  for  a  little  while,  like  a 
God  refreshing  himself  on  the  eve  of  battle,  and  making 
ready  for  the  contest  he  was  soon  to  wage  with  devils  '  on 
the  other  side  of  Tiberias  ; '  for  he  had  only  left  the  mul- 
titude, and  was  then  on  his  way,  with  his  disciples,  '  to  cast 
out  devils  on  the  other  side  of  the  sea  of  Galilee.' 

"  Away,  then,  with  the  absurd  idea,  which  can  only  be 
branded  as  a  monstrous  calumny,  that  Jesus  Christ  was  any 
other  than  a  sound,  healthy,  hearty  man,  although  '  a  man 
of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief.' 

u  But  whence  came  the  '  blood  and  water?  '  Now,  it  must 
be  borne  in  mind,  that  the  soldier  who  pierced  the  side  of 
Jesus  stood  "  under  the  cross"  and  hence  his  thrust  was 
upward,  and  from  below.  The  spear,  therefore,  must  have 
passed  upward  and  obliquely,  irom  side  to  side.  It  could 
have  entered  in  no  other  way ;  and  being,  in  all  probability, 
pushed  with  hatred  and  contempt  for  the  victim  who  died 
so  soon,  '  without  a  bone  of  him  being  broken,'  when  he 
had  expected  to  witness  a  miracle  performed  in  behalf  of 
himself,  even  by  '  coining  down  from  the  cross,'  since  he 
had  raised  others  from  the  dead.  It  is  likely,  I  say,  that 
the  spear  not  only  entered,  but  traversed,  the  entire  cavity 
of  the  chest ;  and  from  this  ugly  wound  '  poured  thereout 
blood  and  water.' 

"  Learned  pathologists  tell  us  that  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  a  broken  heart ;  that  the  ventricle  can  be  ruptured,  and 
has  frequently  been  known  to  be  ruptured,  by  the  intensity 
of  the  feelings  and  the  powerful  and  overwrought  action  of 
the  heart's  muscular  force.  Instances  have  been  frequent 
where  the  ventricle  has  been  lacerated  and  rent  open,  as  a 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  279 

sealed  envelope,  by  the  fierceness  of  sudden  joy,  or  the  vio- 
lence of  sudden  or  protracted  grief.  But  the  scientific  man 
and  learned  pathologist,  with  the  anatomical  knife  in  his 
hand,  has  learned  to  distinguish,  with  unerring  accuracy, 
between  the  causes  which  give  rise  to  sudden  death.  An- 
dral,  the  great  French  teacher  in  the  School  of  Medicine, 
tells  us  that  it  is  an  invariable  rule  and  a  never-failing  oc- 
currence to  find  the  blood  hard  and  coagulated  in  the  cavity 
of  the  chest  when  the  heart  has  been  ruptured  by  excessive 
joy,  or  any  other  passion  save  that  of  grief ;  and  that 
when  grief  has  been  the  cause  of  the  laceration  of  the  left 
ventricle,  then  the  serum,  or  watery  portion  of  the  blood, 
becomes  completely  separated  from  the  crassamentum  or 
'fleshy'  portion,  thus  leaving  it  incapable  of  coagulation. 
In  the  one  case,  if  a  spear  or  other  sharp  instrument  was 
pushed  into  the  breast  of  one  who  had  died  from  the  effects 
of  sudden  or  too  great  joy,  only  a  few  drops  of  blood  would 
ooze  out  of  the  wound  and  trickle  down  the  side  ;  but  in 
the  other,  where  grief  had  been  the  cause  of  sudden  death, 
blood  and  water,  or  bloody  water,  would  pour  forth  in  a 
stream  so  remarkable,  that  an  observer,  at  a  distance  of 
several  paces,  could  not  fail  to  perceive  it. 

"  Here,  then,  my  brethren,  is  the  great  mystery  solved  by 
the  aid  of  science !  The  Son  of  God  was  dying  like  a  man 
upon  the  cross,  but  he  was  dying  like  a  God  also !  While 
his  body  was  tortured  by  the  pains  of  crucifixion,  so  that 
he  cried  out,  like  any  other  man,  '  I  thirst,'  his  immortal 
mind  was  filled  with  grief  at  a  time  when  no  mortal  man, 
thus  tortured  by  the  acutest  sufferings,  could  have  experi- 
enced grief  or  sympathy  for  the  woes  of  any  other  but 
himself.  What  mortal  man  is  there,  uninfluenced  by  the 
principles  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  unsustained  by  his  almighty 
power,  when  suspended  from  a  cross  by  nails  driven  through 
the  hands  and  the  feet — hanging  by  nails  which  have  been 
hammered  between  the  bones,  and  driven  through  the  ten- 
der muscles,  and   lacerating   the   nerves  and  the  sinews — 


280  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS  MASTER  ;    OR, 

what  mortal  man,  thus  tortured,  could  cry,  '  Father,  forgive 
them ;  they  know  not  what  they  do  ! ' 

"  0,  my  brethren,  it  was  grief,  God-like  grief,  which  broke 
the  mourning  heart  of  the  blessed  Son  of  God ! — grief  for  a 
sin-smitten,  woe-born  world  of  sinners,  who  were  even  then 
crying,  with  insane  fury,  '  Crucify  him  ! '  What !  crucify 
him  '  who  spake  as  never  man  spake,'  and  '  who  went  about 
doing  good  ! '  Crucify  '  the  Lord  of  Life  and  Glory  ! ' 
Crucify  '  the  only  begotten  Son  of  God  ! ' — the  very  '  Prince 
of  Peace  ! '     '  Why  ?     What  evil  hath  he  done  ?  ' 

"  0  !  my  brethren,  look  to  it  that  you  are  not  found  among 
the  crucifiers  of  Jesus  !  Wash  your  hands  of  the  business 
cleaner  than  Pilate  washed  his.  Yea,  do  more  than  he  did. 
Help  him,  like  Simon,  to  bear  his  cross,  '  for  it  is  heavy,' 
and  the  Son  of  God  faints  beneath  the  burden.  Stand  not 
afar  off,  as  some  of  his  followers  did,  but  like  John — that 
gentle,  but  fearless  '  one  whom  Jesus  loved ' — like  him,  go 
near  to  the  cross,  and  leave  not  your  Lord  and  Master  alone 
in  his  agonies,  and  forsaken  by  all  the  world  in  his  suffer- 
ings. 0 !  stand  at  the  very  foot  of  the  cross.  Yea,  climb 
up  the  cross  itself;  place  your  hand  upon  his  aching  heart, 
and,  like  a  ministering  angel,  comfort  him  with  the  words, 
'  Lord,  I  love  thee,  and  will  go  with  thee  into  paradise,  and 
be  thy  companion  through  the  valley  and  the  shadow  of 
death.'  0  !  he  needs  comfort — this  Savior  of  the  world  ! 
for  but  a  little  while  before — in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane 
— he  tells  us  that  '  his  soul  was  exceedingly  sorrowful,  even 
unto  death  ! ' 

"My  God!  what  kind  of  sorrow  must  have  been  that! 
Jesus  was  not  the  man  to  make  complaint,  or  reveal  to 
others  the  hidden  sorrows  of  his  soul ;  for  we  are  told  that 
he  was  as  c  a  lamb  led  to  the  slaughter,  who  is  dumb  and 
openeth  not  its  mouth.'  But  see  him  now,  restless  and 
anxious  in  spirit,  going  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  disci- 
ples and  begging  even  slumbering  mortals  to  watch  with 
him  just  '  one  hour  ! '     0  !   you  think,  perhaps,  if  you  had 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  281 

been  one  of  their  number,  you  would  have  watched  and 
prayed  with  him  all  night.  But  nay,  nay;  for  'they  were 
weary  and  their  eyes  were  heavy  laden  with  sleep;'  and, 
though  'the  spirit  was  willing,  yet  the  flesh  was  weak.' 
And  he  had  no  one  to  go  to — that  lonely,  lonesome,  grief- 
stricken  man!  And  as  he  kneeled  alone  that  cold  and 
frosty  night,  upon  the  summit  of  Mount  Olivet,  thus  iso- 
lated from  a  slumbering  world,  and  shut  in  by  the  garden 
of  Olives  from  the  sympathy  of  his  own  friends  and  follow- 
ers, the  floods  of  grief  which  kept  on  rolling  their  dark- 
waves,  like  a  mighty  deluge,  over  his  mourning  soul,  seemed 
as  though  they  would  surely  overwhelm  him  in  the  deep- 
est, darkest  abyss  of  human  woe  !  It  was  then  that  great 
blood-drops  gushed  forth  from  every  pore,  like  a  profuse 
and  exhausting  sweat,  and  hung  like  a  crown  of  crimson 
coral  beads  upon  his  forehead,  and  rolled  like  a  torrent  of 
woe  down  the  cheeks  of  the  sorrowing  Savior  of  sinners. 

"  0  !  let  us  all  cry  to-day  with  hearty  repentance  :  '  My 
God !  my  God  !  why  hast  thou  forsaken  us  also  ! ' 

There  were  but  few  eyes  that  were  dry  in  that  vast  con- 
gregation, and  many  a  sob  gushed  from  the  hearts  of  those 
who  felt,  for  the  first  time  in  all  their  lives,  that  they  were 
great  sinners  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  themselves  had  helped 
to  drive  the  nails  into  the  hands  and  the  feet  of  the  blessed 
Jesus. 

But  of  all  that  vast  throng,  which  filled  nearly  all  the 
pews  and  crowded  the  galleries  of  that  large  building,  not 
one  felt  more  deeply,  nor  one  shook  more  violently  under 
the  influence  of  the  orator's  words,  than  that  lonely  woman, 
Mrs.  Williston,  who,  in  the  loneliness  of  her  widowhood  and 
her  self-immolation,  felt  the  more  sorrow  and  sympathy  for 
the  lonesomeness  and  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ,  because, 
like  him,  she  needed  companionship,  and  there  was  no  one 
in  the  world  who  could  understand  her  heart  or  interpret 
her  feelings. 

The  sermon  ended,  the  prayer  ceased,  the  hymn  was  sung, 


282  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

and  the  congregation  went  ont  into  the  streets ;  many  to 
forget  soon,  but  others  to  remember  long,  the  solemn  dis- 
course which  had  enchained  their  attention,  ravished  their 
imagination,  and  touched  their  hearts,  even  as  the  lips  of 
the  speaker  seemed  to  have  been  touched,  as  by  a  live  coal 
from  the  altar  of  Glod. 

Mr.  Sanford  passed  out  of  the  door  with  the  last  of  the 
congregation,  and  in  passing  by  the  sexton,  he  stopped  a 
few  moments  to  inquire,  with  evident  interest,  what  stranger 
— what  lady  it  was  who  had  come  that  day  to  his  church, 
who  was  dressed  in  black,  and  seemed  to  be  so  deeply 
affected  by  his  discourse.  ♦  He  had  not  seen  her  face,  but  as 
she  turned  to  leave  her  pew,  his  eye,  involuntarily  turned 
that  way,  had  caught  the  graceful  outlines  of  her  person, 
and  observed  her  majestic  bearing,  and  there  was  an  in- 
stinctive longing  to  see  that  face  which  was  hid  by  the  dark 
vail  which  concealed  its  beauty. 

Poor  Sanford  !  His  heari  was  lonesome  and  desolate  still, 
and  had  never  found  its  mate.  It  is  true  that  the  void  of 
his  mourning  heart  was,  in  a  great  measure,  filled  by  the 
love  of  Jesus ;  but  our  humanity,  school  it,  and  fetter  it, 
or  free  it,  as  we  may,  will  ever  turn  with  longing,  linger- 
ing gaze  toward  the  faces,  or  the  recollection  of  our  dear 
departed,  lost  ones ;  and  the  heart,  oppressed  by  the  cares 
of  life,  or  bound  by  secret  sorrows,  will  sigh  for  the  joys 
and  "the  light  of  other  days." 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  283 


CHAPTER   VII. 

LAS,  poor  woman !  whether  wife,  or  widow,  or  maiden ! 
how  .she  suffers  in  her  heart  of  hearts  ! — the  inmost 
reccptable  of  her  soul's  noblest  and  truest  affections ! 
How,  in  secret,  she  broods  over  her  sorrows,  and  no 
one  ever  knows  the  misery  of  a  heart  aching  with  many 
painful  throbs  !  Disappointment  may  feed  upon  her  heart 
and  eat  away  all  her  virgin  or  her  woman's  hopes,  like  "  the 
worm  i'  the  bud;"  and  her  cheeks  may  be  red,  and  her  lips 
wreathed  with  a  smile,  while  her  heart's  core  has  been  eaten 
away,  and  she  is  ready  to  lay  her  head  upon  the  stony  couch 
of  her  tomb. 

The  heart  of  a  man  bowed  down  by  sorrow,  may  be  lik- 
ened to  a  sepulcher  which  contains  the  bones  of  the  sacred 
dead.  His  sorrows  may  be  so  great  that  he  can  not  tell 
them  to  the  world ;  but  his  head  droops  low,  and  his  face 
is  sad,  and  there  is  no  smile  upon  his  lips  or  laughter  in 
his  voice ;  and  the  world  can  see  that  there  is  suffering 
within,  and  that  dead  hopes  lie  buried  in  his  breast.  There 
is  no  need  to  write  upon  a  tombstone  or  a  monument  erected 
in  a  graveyard  that  some  one  who  has  departed  this  life  lies 
buried  here.  The  tombstone  or  the  monument  will  indi- 
cate the  fact,  although  the  inscription  may  be  covered  up 
with  mold,  or  has  long  since  been  worn  away  by  the  waste 
of  ages.  And  so,  also,  there  is  no  need  that  a  sorrowing, 
heart-broken  man  should  tell  to  the  world  that  he  suffers, 
and  that  his  heart  is  breaking.     Though  his  frame  may  be 


284  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

stalwart,  and  his  trunk  seem  never  so  firm,  and  hard  as  tho 
oak,  men  can  see  that  his  tree  is  "withering  at  the  top;" 
and  though  he  may  yet  live  a  long  while  in  the  world,  he 
will  only  remain  as  a  mournful  relic  of  the  past,  as  a  dead 
tree  standing  alone  in  melancholy  decay,  with  its  dead 
leaves  or  its  naked  branches  surrounded  by  the  green  boughs 
of  the  forest. 

But  not  so  with  the  heart  of  a  woman,  whose  spirit  has 
been  crushed  by  her  woes  and  her  disappointments.  Her 
heart  is  not  a  sepulcher,  but  a  shrine,  whose  high-priest  is 
Love,  burning  incense  and  ofFering  up  prayers  behind  a  thick 
vail,  that  the  multitude  can  not  see  what  is  going  on  behind 
the  screen.  They  may  look,  and  they  may  look  in  vain,  to 
see  the  chalice  which  is  waved  aloft  to  heaven ;  and  God 
alone  can  see  the  agony  of  the  soul  bowed  in  constant 
prayer,  and  hear  the  groans  and  death-throes  of  the  wounded 
spirit.  It  is  only  when  death's  rude  and  unpitying  hand 
takes  hold  of  the  cord  and  drawrs  up  the  curtain,  that  the 
multitude  can  see  the  high-priest  still  kneeling  down  upon 
his  knees,  with  his  hands  still  clasped  upon  his  breast,  as 
if  in  prayer,  but  his  head  drooped  low  and  resting  upon 
the  altar,  before  which  he  shall  burn  incense  nevermore. 
For  the  high-priest  is  dead  !  died  upon  his  knees  before 
the  altar,  and,  like  Moses  upon  Mount  Nebo,  no  one  saw 
him  die  but  God  alone.  So,  too,  the  poor,  broken-hearted 
woman  dies,  and  the  world  does  not  know,  until  she  is  dead, 
or  never  knows,  that  she  died  of  a  broken  heart !  Poor, 
suffering,  but  noble,  brave-hearted  woman  ! 

It  was  the  day  after  the  Sabbath  upon  which  Mrs.  Wil- 
liston  had  listened,  and  others,  too,  had  listened  with  rapt 
attention  to  the  discourse  of  the  Rev.  Julius  Sanford,  that 
he  was  walking  up  one  of  the  most  frequented  streets  of 
Boston,  thinking  of  "the  woman  in  black,"  whose  elegant 
figure  only  he  had  seen,  and  wondering,  in  his  heart,  if  her 
face  was  as  beautiful  as  his  own  dear,  lost  Anna.  While 
thoughts    like    these  were  in  his   mind,  and  he  felt  most 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  285 

lonely  in  a  crowd,  lie  saw  a  beautiful,  curly-headed  little 
boy,  of  about  five  years,  running  toward  him  with  flushed 
cheeks  and  an  anxious  look.     He  was  so  struck  with  the 
beauty  and  intelligence  of  the  little  fellow's  countenance, 
and  the  neatness  of  his  apparel,  that  he  watched  him  with 
eagerness,  as,  with  patting  little  footsteps  and  panting  breath 
he  traveled  slowly,  as  a  wearied  child,  over  the  hard  pave- 
ment.     Just  before  he  reached   the   minister,  he  stumped 
his  toe  and  fell  at  full  length  upon  the  hard  stone  walk, 
before  Mr.  Sanford  had  time  to  reach  forth  his  hand  and 
save  him  from  a  painful  fall.     Mr.  Sanford  caught  the  little 
boy  up  in  his  arms,  and  tenderly  soothed  him,  as  a  kind 
father  would  his  own  child,  who  has  been  hurt  by  a  hard 
fall.     The  tears  had  gushed  to  the  eyes  of  the  child— who, 
however,  did   not   cry  aloud,    nor  even   whimper,  as  most 
children  would  have  done—and   as   the   tears  rolled  down 
his  cheeks,  became  thus  frozen  by  the  cold ;  and  standing- 
still  and  frozen  there,  glittered  like  icicles  upon  a  rose-bud. 
Those  tears  turned   into  ice,  and  arrested  in  their  flow  so 
soon,  told  that  he  had  suffered  pain,  although  he  did  not 
cry  aloud,  for  if  his  frame  was  delicate,  and  his  years  but 
few,  he  had   a   manly  little   heart.     Mr.   Sanford  brushed 
away,  or  rather  broke  off  the  frozen  tears  from  his  face,  and 
kissed  him  affectionately  upon   his   cherub   lips,  and   then 
asked,  in  the  kindest  tones  imaginable : 

"What  is  your  name,  my  sweet  little  man?" 

"Willie,  sir,"  said  the  child. 

"And  whose  little  man  are  you,  Willie?" 

"Mamma's,"  said  Willie. 

"And  what  is  mamma's  name,  Willie?" 

"Mrs.  Williston,"  said  Willie,  evincing  the  naivete  of  a 
child  who  is  astonished  that  any  one  should  have  to  ask 
the  name  of  its  mother,  whom  it  knows  so  well,  and  thinks 
all  the  world  ought  to  know  equally  well. 

"Williston!  Williston!"  said  Mr.  Sanford,  talking  to 
himself  in  an  under  tone,  all  unconscious  that  he  was  heard 


286  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

by  the  child,  who  was  pressed,  it  may  be,  a  little  closer  to 
his  breast,  as  he  still  held  the  little  fellow  in  his  arms. 
"Williston!  that  dear  name!  Can  her  name  be  Anna?  is 
it  she?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Willie,  in  an  exultant  tone,  "that's  my 
mamma's  name,  Anna  Williston.     Do  you  know  her?" 

"  Yes — or  rather,  I  knew  once  a  Mrs.  Williston,  but  do 
not  know — indeed,  it  can  not  be  that  your  mother  is  the 
same  Anna  Williston  I  once  knew,  at  Washington;  although," 
he  added  with  a  smile,  "  you  are  beautiful  enough  to  be  her 
child." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Willie,  his  eye  lighted  up  and  sparkling 
with  pride  and  pleasure,  "it  is  my  mamma,  for  there  is 
no  other  Mrs.  Anna  Williston  in  the  world  that  I  ever  heard 
of,  and  no  sweet  lady  half  so  beautiful  as  my  poor  mamma, 
who  is  very  sick  now.  Please,  sir,  let  me  go ;  I  am  in  a 
hurry." 

"And  where  are  you  going,  Willie?" 

"I  am  going  for  the  doctor,  sir;  mamma  is  sick,  and 
wants  to  see  Doctor  Boring  again,  just  for  a  little  while, 
she  said." 

"You  are  not  far  from  Doctor  Boring's,  Willie,"  said 
Mr.  Sanford,  putting  down  the  little  fellow  and  taking  him 
by  the  hand.  "  I  will  go  with  you  myself  to  his  office,  for 
I  have  a  slight  acquaintance  with  the  doctor,  and  then,  if 
you  have  no  objections,  I  will  accompany  you  home,  for  I 
am  a  clergyman,  Willie,  and  your  mother  may  not  be  un- 
willing to  see  me." 

"0,  no!  sir,  she  will  be  very  glad  to  sec  you!  for  ever 
since  she  heard  you  preach  yesterday,  she  has  been  weep- 
ing, and  in  her  dreams,  last  night,  I  heard  her  say  how 
much  she  loved  Mr.  Sanford;  and  when  I  asked  her,  this 
morning,  who  Mr.  Sanford  was,  she  said,  he  was  the  preacher 
whom  we  heard  yesterday." 

"  The  same  !  the  very  same  ! "  said  Mr.  Sanford,  in  a  low, 
agitated  voice.     Willie  heard  him  say  "  the  same,"  but  he 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  287 

thought  Mr.  Sanford  had  reference  to  himself,  and  not  to 
his  mother. 

"  This  is  Doctor  Boring's  office,"  said  Mr.  Sanford,  a  little 
while  after,  and  turning  in,  he  inquired  of  the  "  office  hoy  " 
for  Dr.  Boring. 

"He  is  not  in,  sir,"  said  the  hoy,  in  reply,  and  bowing 
very  politely,  "  he  stepped  up  to  the  house  a  few  moments 
since,  but  said  he  would  be  back  directly." 

Mr.  Sanford  took  out  his  gold-cased  pencil  and  wrote 
upon  a  slip  of  paper  a  few  lines,  and  handing  it  to  the  boy, 
said :  "  Go  up  quickly  to  the  house  and  say  to  the  doctor 
that  I  have  gone  on  to  Mrs.  Williston's,  and  will  meet  him 
at  her  house." 

The  boy  knew  Mr.  Sanford  very  well,  and  did  not  hesitate, 
at  the  request  of  so  eloquent  and  popular  a  clergyman,  to 
go  immediately  in  search  of  his  master.  As  he  left  the 
office,  Mr.  Sanford  took  Willie  by  the  hand,  and  walking 
too  rapidly  and  anxiously,  with  the  little  fellow  trotting  by 
his  side,  reminded  the  street  passengers  in  contrast  of  size, 
though  in  nothing  else,  of  the  little  pilot-fish  clinging  to 
the  huge  shark,  to  guide  it  through  the  ocean  desert  of 
waters.  Indeed,  Willie  became  so  very  tired,  that  Mr.  San- 
ford, recollecting  that  a  little  child  could  not  walk  so  fast 
as  a  man  and  not  be  weary,  stooped  down,  with  fatherly  pity, 
and  took  him  up  in  his  arms,  carrying  him  the  rest  of  the 
way,  until  they  reached  the  cottage  of  Mrs.  Williston. 

When  Mr.  Sanford  entered  the  house,  Willie  took  him  by 
the  hand  and  led  him  through  the  short  passage  into  the 
parlor,  or  sitting-room,  where  his  mother  was  lying  upon  a 
settee,  or  sofa,  covered  up  with  several  thick  comforts.  She 
was  coughing  violently  before  they  entered  the  room ;  but 
her  cough  ceased  almost  instantly,  from  the  intensity  of  her 
emotions,  and  the  suddenness  of  her  surprise,  at  seeing  Mr. 
Sanford  instead  of  the  physician.  Involuntarily  she  rose  up 
in  a  Bitting  posture,  and  held  out  her  arms  to  the  dear 
object  of  her  heart's  idolatry.     A  single  cry  escaped  her 


288  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

lips,  which  stood  apart,  pale,  and  bloodless,  and  tremulous, 
but  revealing,  as  in  the  days  gone  by,  the  pearly  whiteness 
of  her  beautiful  teeth.  The  cry  which  she  uttered  was  not 
such  a  cry  as  wo  are  accustomed  to  hear.  It  was  a  cry  of 
distress  and  relief ;  of  joy  and  sorrow  ;  of  pleasure  and  pain 
commingled.  The  only  word  that  she  uttered  was  "  Sanford ! " 
and  the  only  response  which  the  preacher  gave  was  "  Anna !  " 
Then  he  threw  his  arms  around  her,  and  lifted  her  from  the 
settee — lifted  her  from  the  floor  in  one  long,  convulsive 
embrace ;  and  with  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  her  head 
upon  his  shoulder,  and  her  eyes  closed  as  if  she  had  dropped 
asleep,  she  clung  to  him  then  as  the  poor  seaman  who  has 
been  washed  overboard,  and  has  breasted  the  waves,  and 
buffeted  them  a  long  time,  until  he  is  tired  and  almost 
ready  to  fling  up  his  hands  in  despair,  when  he  feels,  all  at 
once,  a  plank  drifted  under  his  arms,  or  reaches  a  life-buoy 
toward  which  he  has  been  struggling;  and  then,  with  his 
wearied  arms  hugging  the  buoy,  or  his  elbows  upon  the 
plank,  his  head  droops  low,  and  he  drops  to  sleep  with  his 
body  still  surrounded  by  the  foaming  waters  !  So,  too,  felt 
Mrs.  Williston — safe  now — like  the  "man  overboard,"  who 
has  been  almost  drowned,  but  has,  at  last,  reached  the  plank 
or  the  buoy,  upon  which  he  goes  to  sleep. 

When  Mr.  Sanford's  arms  relaxed  their  hold,  he  sat  down 
upon  the  sofa  and  drew  her  head  unresistingly  upon  his 
breast.  In  just  such  a  position  once  before  they  had  sat 
in  her  dead  husband's  home  at  Washington  ;  and  then  it 
was  a  fatal  position,  for  it  brought  death,  and  had  caused 
themselves  to  be  separated  three  long  years — years  of  mourn- 
ing, of  trials,  and  of  sorrow.  It  had  caused  her  noble  lover 
to  stain  his  hands,  almost  in  self-defense,  in  her  husband's 
blood;  it  had  driven  her  away  an  exile — a  voluntary  exile — 
from  the  only  man  whom  she  had  ever  loved,  for  her  own 
sense  of  propriety,  and  the  stern  requisitions  of  a  heartless 
world,  and,  most  of  all,  to  shield  the  reputation  of  the  man 
she  loved  and  worshiped  with  the  love  of  a  saint  kneeling 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  289 

ever  before  the  holiest  of  shrines — these  considerations  had 
caused  her  to  flee  from  the  love  of  one  whom  she  had  loved 
so  that  her  heart  was  consumed  daily  with  the  internal  fires 
of  its  devotion.  She  could  not  marry  Sanford,  lest  the  world, 
ever  a  base  calumniator,  should  say,  as  the  world  would  have 
said  then,  that  he  had  killed  Mr.  Williston  with  design  to 
marry  his  widow  !  0  !  how  her  soul  recoiled  at  the  suspicion  ! 
and  how  she  resolved  to  suffer  martyrdom  herself  rather  than 
have  a  single  vile  slander  hurled  at  the  god  of  her  heart's 
adorations,  or  a  single  stain  polluting  the  shrine  at  which 
she  worshiped  ! 

Ah !  then  she  worshiped  only  at  the  altar  of  humanity, 
and  bowed  her  knee  to  the  blind  god  of  Passion !  virtuous 
and  pure  it  may  be,  but  passion  still,  because  unsanctified 
by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  unsanctioned  by  the  laws  of  God, 
or  the  regulations  of  society.  But  now  her  love  was  no 
longer  passion ;  it  bore  a  holier — for  holier  name.  Once 
her  head  .had  rested  upon  the  noble  breast,  and  she  had 
listened  with  rapture  to  the  throbbings  of  the  noble  heart 
of  that  lover  upon  whom  she  now  leaned  for  support;  and 
the  peering  eyes  of  the  suspicious  inquisitor,  looking  through 
the  blinds  of  her  parlor-window  at  Washington,  with  a  con- 
temptuous smile,  or  an  indignant  frown  at  the  married  woman, 
no  longer  a  maiden,  but  with  a  virgin  heart,  might  have 
cried  "shame"  upon  her  who  could  betray  her  husband, 
either  by  a  look  or  a  word.  But  it  was  no  longer  treason 
to  her  lord,  or  his  memory,  to  rest  her  weary  head  where 
only  it  should  ever  have  rested,  and  where  it  might  have 
rested  from  her  virginity,  with  pride  and  pleasure,  through 
long  years  of  happiness  and  peace,  but  for  the  officiousness 
of  friends,  who  can  never  know  the  wants  nor  the  love  of  \ 
true  woman's  heart.  0!  the  sins  of  foolish,  wicked  match- 
makers, who  are  the  grave-diggers  of  society,  to  bury  true 
hearts  in  the  grays  of  interest  ;  and  undertakers  to  wrap  tho 
corpses  of  those  who  should  be  dear  to  them,  in  their  tissuo 
paper  of  unrequited  or  disappointed  affections ! 
13 


290  OLD   TONEY   AIS'D   HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

As  she  sat  thus,  with  the  arm  of  her  lover  around  her 
waist,  and  her  head  resting  against  his  breast,  her  spirit 
grew  serene  and  happy ;  happier  than  she  had  ever  been  in 
her  life  before.  And  he  told  his  tale  of  love  anew — all 
over,  from  beginning  to  end,  as  if  she  had  never  heard  it, 
and  knew  not  that  she  was  beloved.  And  he  pleaded  with 
her  to  alter  her  vows  and  cast  aside  her  widow's  weeds,  as 
if  she  had  not  altered  them  the  moment  she  had  seen  his 
coming  and  reached  forth  her  arms  of  welcome  ;  and  as  if 
she  had  not  buried  her  widow's  weeds  in  the  grave  of  her 
false  husband,  and  worn  them  only  for  him  !  And  as  she 
listened  to  the  murmuring  tones  of  his  dear  voice,  as  his 
head  bent  over  hers,  with  a  smile  upon  his  lips  but  with  sor- 
row upon  his  brow,  as  the  willow,  bending  low  its  head,  and 
kissing,  with  its  drooping  branches,  the  sweet,  cool  face  of 
the  waters,  she  felt,  as  do  the  tiny  waves,  like  leaping  up- 
ward and  answering  with  a  kiss  the  kiss  of  the  weeping- 
willow  ! 

But  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  her  chest  heaved  with 
sympathy  and  with  pitying  love,  as  she  listened  to  the 
mournful  music  of  his  voice,  and  heard  him  say  how  lonely 
and  how  desolate  he  had  been  during  three  long  years ; 
lonely  as  the  turtle-dove  sighing  for  its  mate,  which  returns 
not  at  its  cooing,  because  it  has  been  wounded  by  the  bow 
of  the  archer,  and  is  dead;  desolate  and  inconsolable  as 
the  famished  infant  weeping  upon  the  breast  of  its  dead 
mother,  because  she  will  no  more  awake  at  its  fondest  ca- 
resses, and  because  the  paps  at  which  it  has  been  tugging 
are  dry ! 

"Ah!"  said  he,  "it  is  a  true  saying  that  'every  heart 
knows  its  own  bitterness ; '  for,  while  I  was  striving  to  com- 
fort others,  how  much  did  I  need  comfort  myself!  I  have 
often  compared  myself  as  a  lone  beacon  built  upon  a  rock 
far  out  in  the  sea,  almost  out  of  sight  of  land,  with  nothing 
around  but  the  waves  dashing  against  its  base.  The  winds 
howl,  and  the  billows  roll  high,  and  a  night  of  darkness 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  291 

shuts  in,  and  the  lantern  is  swung  aloft  to  its  binnacle,  as 
a  beacon-light  to  the  distant  ship  at  sea.  The  tempest- 
tossed  mariner  sees  it,  and  he  puts  up  his  helm  to  alter  his 
course,  for  he  knows  that  it  is  a  friendly  light  to  guide  him 
on  his  way  ;  and  he  sails  by  the  beacon,  and  enters  joyously 
the  port,  nor  even  thinks  nor  cares  how  very  lonely  is  the 
man  who  lives  in  the  tower,  who  swung  up  that  light,  and 
to  Whoso  constant  care  and  unceasing  vigilance  he  has  been 
saved  from  shipwreck  and  ruin,  and  has  entered  the  haven 
in  safety.  Little  have  they  known,  while  I  have  been 
preaching  patience  to  others,  how  impatient  was  my  own 
sinful  heart !  Little  have  they  thought,  while  I  was  telling 
with  so  much  earnestness,  of  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  how  much  I  needed  that  grace  shed  abroad  in  my 
own  sinful  soul !  Little  have  my  most  intimate  friends 
supposed,  when  I  strove  to  lighten  their  sorrows  or  temper 
their  joys,  that  my  heart  was  decked  with  all  the  habili- 
ments of  mourning,  and  bowed  by  an  oppressive  load  which 
none  but  your  dear  hand  could  remove  !  But,  thank  God, 
the  watchman  shall  no  longer  be  lonely,  for  God  has  sent 
him  a  companion  to  stand  by  his  side,  and  help  him  dress 
the  lantern  and  swing  it  aloft  in  the  binnacle,  that  the 
storm -tossed  mariner,  bound  for  eternity,  may  see  that  the 
beacon  is  still  faithfully  kept.  Will  it  not  be  so,  dear- 
est?" 

"God  helping  me,  Julius,  it  shall  be  so.  But,  0!  pray 
for  me,  that  God  may  give  me  strength  to  fulfill  all  the 
duties  of  a  faithful  minister's  wife." 

There  was  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  Mr.  Sanford  himself 
obeyed  the  summons.  It  was  Dr.  Boring,  whom  he  shook 
joyously  by  the  hand,  as  an  old  friend  whom  he  had  not 
seen  for  long  years.  So  happy  was  his  heart  now,  that  it 
made  him  grasp  the  hand  of  a  comparative  stranger  with 
the  grip  of  a  college-boy  who  meets  upon  the  highway  his 
college  chum,  whom  he  has  not  seen  for  several  months  or 
years.     How  happy,  how  kind,  and  generous,  and  forgiving 


292  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER  J    OR, 

does  success  in  life  render  a  man  of  noble  impulses,  even 
when  that  man's  heart  is  unsanctified  by  the  grace  of  God  ! 
But  how  much  happier,  how  much  kinder,  how  much  more 
generous  and  loving,  is  the  heart  of  the  Christian,  who  feels 
gratitude  to  God  because  his  prayers  have  been  heard  at 
last,  although  the  petition  has  been  long  deferred,  perhaps 
in  mercy  and  in  love ! 

Dr.  Boring  returned  the  greeting  of  Mr.  Sanford  warmly, 
but  he  could  not  resist  a  smile  and  a  feeling  of  inward  sat- 
isfaction, because  he  suspected,  from  the  singular  warmth 
of  the  clergyman — so  good  a  reader  was  he  of  human  na- 
ture— that  Mrs.  Williston  had  found  a  friend  who  could  be 
kinder  to  her  than  he  had  been ;  one,  said  he,  to  himself, 
"that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother."  And  as  he  sat  down 
by  the  side  of  the  patient,  and  experienced  the  warmth  of 
the  seat  which  Mr.  Sanford  had  just  vacated,  and  felt  the_ 
pulse  of  Mrs.  Williston,  and  knew,  by  its  pulsations,  that 
her  heart  was  throbbing  steadier,  and  with  more  elastic 
bounds  than  he  had  ever  felt  it  throb  before,  he  raised  his 
head  slowly,  and,  with  a  mischievous  smile  upon  his  coun- 
tenance as  he  winked  toward  Mr.  Sanford,  who  blushed  up 
to  his  temples  : 

"  The  parson  is  a  better  doctor  than  I  am,"  said  he.  "I 
think  I  must  resign  you  into  his  hands." 

Mrs.  Williston  blushed  until  she  was  crimson,  and  mur- 
mured, in  reply,  something  about  his  being  an  old  friend, 
whom  she  had  not  seen  for  several  years. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  found  so  noble  a  friend,  mad- 
am," said  the  doctor,  in  his  blunt,  frank  way;  "and  I  hope 
you  will  never  be  separated  again,  save  by  the  hand  of 
death !  You  need  a  friend  dearer  and  truer  than  I  can  be, 
although  God  knows  it  would  be  my  delight  to  see  you 
happy  always  and  forever.  But  take  this  pill,  madam.  You 
are  a  great  deal  better  than  I  expected  to  find  you;  for 
your  skin  is  moist,  and  although  your  pulse  indicates  that 
you  have  been  laboring  under  a  high  fever,  it  is  rapidly 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  293 

subsiding.  Swallow  this  pill,  and  you  will  experience  more 
benefit  than  you  can  imagine.  To-morrow  morning  I  will 
call  to  see  you  again.  And,  by  the  way,  I  hope  Mr.  Sanford 
will  continue  to  visit  my  patient  every  day;  for  I  am  satis- 
fied, my  dear  sir,  that  your  agreeable  conversation  will  do 
more  for  the  complete  restoration  of  Mrs.  Williston's  health 
than  all  the  medicine  in  Boston.  Eh!  my  little  Willie? 
What  do  you  think  about  it,  sir?  How  would  you  like  to 
be  a  doctor,  sir?"  said  Dr.  Boring,  as  he  patted  the  bright- 
eyed  boy  upon  his  head. 

"I  would   like  it  very  well,  sir,"  said  Willie;    "but    I 
would  like  it  a  great  deal  better  to  be  a  preacher,  like  Mr 
Sanford." 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  laughed  the  doctor.  "Well  then,  sir, 
you  will  have  to  remain  with  Mr.  Sanford.  He  can  teach 
you  divinity;  I  can  only  teach  you  to  mix  up  pills  and 
spread  blister-plasters.  And,  to  say  the  least,  it  is  a  very 
dirty  business,  which  no  gentleman  would,  or  likes  to  follow. 
Don't  you  think  so,  my  little  man?" 

"I  think  you  are  a  gentleman,  sir,  and  you  are  a  doctor." 
"  Thank  you  !  thank  you  !  my  little  fellow.  And  you  are 
a  little  gentleman  also.  One  compliment  deserves  another 
I  know ;  but  I  appreciate  your  remark  very  highly,  as  the 
highest  compliment  ever  paid  me  in  all  my  life.  Not  that 
I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  a  gentleman,  or  that  I  am  not  called 
a  gentleman  by  others,  but  because  I  have  been  called  so 
by  a  little  child  of  five  years.  You  are  a  shrewd  fellow, 
Willie,  to  see  so  far  into  a  millstone.  Good-morning,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Williston.  You  have  a  smart  little  son,  and  he 
deserves  a  smart  daddy.  Good-morning,  Mr.  Sanford.  God 
bless  you  both,  and  make  you  as  happy  as  I  am  in  seeing 
you  all  smiling  so  happily  upon  me !  " 

Mr.  Sanford  rose  from  his  seat  and  accompanied  the  doc- 
tor to  the  door.  As  they  stood  upon  the  stoop  together, 
he  asked  Dr.  Boring,  in  a  very  anxious  manner,  if  he  had 
any  fears  whatever  for  his  patient's  safety. 


294  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

"  None  whatever,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  She 
has  only  taken  a  fresh  cold,  the  result  of  going  out  yester- 
day, which  is  already  giving  way,  and  will  soon  be  removed 
entirely  from  her  system,  with  proper  care.  She  only  needs 
a  kind  husband,"  he  added,  with  a  smile  of  intelligence, 
"to  keep  her  from  taking  cold  in  future." 

As  Mr.  Sanford  returned  to  the  room,  he  thought  within 
himself,  "  If  that  is  all,  I  hope  in  God  that  I  may  be  her 
true  and  faithful  husband,  as  I  know  she  will  be  to  me  a 
true  and  faithful  wife.  May  the  good  Lord  unite  us  in  the 
flesh  as  we  are  already  united  in  the  s]3irit !  " 

When  Mr.  Sanford  re-entered  the  parlor,  Mrs.  Williston 
welcomed  his  coining  with  that  yearning  look  and  beaming 
smile  of  welcome  which  only  a  fond  woman  can  assume, 
who,  with  a  heart  throbbing  with  joy,  greets  the  return  of 
her  long-absent  lord.  And  Mr.  Sanford,  with  a  smile  of 
happiness,  resumed  the  seat  by  her  side,  which  he  had  va- 
cated at  the  coming  of  Dr.  Boring,  and  with  his  arm  around 
her  waist,  and  little  Willie  upon  his  knee — who  sat  there  as 
happy  as  if  he  had  found  a  father,  far  happier  than  he 
ever  could  have  been  with  his  own  father — thus  the  happy 
trio  sat,  with  unalloyed  happiness  in  their  hearts  and  pleas- 
ure beaming  from  each  love-lit  countenance.  Happy,  thrice 
happy  were  these  lovers  now,  who  had  been  kept  apart  by 
a  painful  separation  of  long  months  and  years,  but  so  lately 
united  by  the  providence  of  God ! — who  had  been  separated 
by  the  unmeaning  customs  of  life  and  the  cruel  edicts  of  a 
heartless  conventionalism — the  conventionalism  of  a  society 
which  has  no  vail  of  charity  to  fling  over  the  faults  and 
foibles  of  any  other  but  its  own — a  society  which  sneers  and 
scoff's  at  the  appearance  of  evil,  and  who  hoots  beyond  its 
borders  the  seeming  derelict,  while  in  secret,  and  sometimes 
even  in  the  broad  light  of  day,  that  same  harsh  arbiter  of 
others'  destinies  commits  the  most  monstrous  crimes  and 
calls  them  virtues  ! 

But  Mrs.  Williston  and  her  clerical  lover  are  safe  now 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  295 

from  the  hand  of  persecution  and  the  tongue  of  slander. 
They  have  passed  through  a  painful  and  most  excruciating 
ordeal.  They  have  felt  the  tortures  of  the  rack.  They 
have  walked  through  the  fiery  furnace  and  amid  all  the 
flames.  Although  separated  in  appearance,  they  were  still 
united  in  reality ;  for  there  was  One  who  walked  between 
them  in  the  furnace,  and  his  form  seemed  more  than  the 
form  of  an  angel,  for  it  "  looked  like  that  of  the  Son  of 
man,"  whose  breath  was  as  "a  cool  wind  and  a  moist  air" 
around  them,  that  their  frames  were  not  scorched  nor  their 
hearts  withered  by  the  flames  of  affliction.  And  now  that' 
they  are  united  by  the  hand  of  God,  may  the  God  of  the 
Christian  be  with  them  forever ! 


BOOK   III. 


CHAPTER  I. 

T  is  some  time  since  we  were  at  the  home  of  Mrs.  Shel- 
ton  ;  and  when  we  were  there  last,  Old  Toncy  had  re- 
jected his  freedom  with  disdain,  or  sorrowful  indigna- 
tion, but  had  accepted,  with  pride  and  pleasure,  the 
gold  watch  and  the  money  which  his  master  had  left 
him  as  a  memorial — a  faint  estimate,  but  a  heartfelt  offering 
— for  his  many  valuable  and  inestimable  services.  There 
was  no  master  now  but  Old  Toney  on  the  little  farm,  and 
he  was  beginning  to  prepare  for  another  crop.  Young  Toney 
and  his  brother  George  were  busy  with  the  plow,  while  the 
younger  children  were  gathering  up  trash  to  be  burned. 
Fanny  was  about  the  house,  dressed  with  her  usual  taste  ; 
while  Lucy  and  her  mother  did  the  cooking  and  the  wash- 
ing for  the  entire  family,  both  white  and  black.  Old  Toney 
himself  did  as  an  industrious  master  of  a  plantation  will  do, 
going  from  one  to  the  other,  giving  directions  how  the  work 
should  be  done,  and  assisting  the  laborers  to  do  it ;  now 
picking  up  trash  with  the  "  trash-gang,"  and  throwing  sticks, 
and  junks,  and  branches  of  trees  upon  the  fire ;  and  then 
taking  hold  of  the  plow  and  running  a  furrow  or  two,  either 
to  show  how  the  ploAv  should  be  governed,  or  to  relieve  the 
13*  (207) 


298  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

hand  and  rest  the  weariness  of  the  plowman.  Such,  I  be- 
lieve, is  a  faithful  picture,  briefly  drawn,  of  the  general 
habits  of  an  industrious  Southern  planter. 

Old  Toney  had  just  let  go  the  plow,  which  he  had  handed 
back  to  his  son  George,  and  was  returning  homeward  to 
attend  to  certain  duties  about  the  yard.  The  sun  was  just 
setting  in  the  west  as  he  climbed  over  the  fence  and  sat 
upon  the  top  rail,  thinking  over  his  agricultural  plans  and 
future  farming  operations.  And  as  he  thought  of  these,  the 
memory  of  his  old  master  came  back  to  him  in  all  its  force, 
and,  for  some  considerable  time,  he  was  compelled  to  hold 
on  to  the  rail  with  both  hands,  sobbing  with  all  his  might, 
and  mourning  the  lost  society  and  companionship  of  one 
whom  he  should  never  more  see  in  this  world.  But  the 
violence  of  his  grief  passed  away,  and  he  began  to  sing,  in 
a  mournful  tone,  a  song  which  Old  Sampson  had  composed ; 
and  the  song  seemed  to  soothe  his  troubled  spirit,  because 
he  felt  that,  although  the  old  African  preacher  had  com- 
posed it  for  himself,  yet  it  was,  in  a  great  degree,  appro- 
priate to  his  own  sad  case.  We  can  not  give  the  tune,  which, 
sung  by  such  a  songster,  sounded  like  a  very  sweet  and 
plaintive  Ethiopian  melody.  But  the  words  were  these,  as 
near  as  we  can  remember  them,  and  which  we  shall  call 

THE    OLD    NEGRO'S    LAMENT. 

1  liad  a  kind  old  masser, 
0  !  he  was  very  kind; 
When  pool-  nigger's  griefs  were  great 
He  always  said,  "  0  !  nebber  mind." 
When  poor  nigger's  griefs  were  great 
He  always  said,  "  0  !  nebber  mind.     0!  nebber  mind." 

I  had  a  kind  old  masser, 

But  he  is  dead  and  gone  ; 
He  died  out;  cold  winter  night, 

Stiff  dead  was  he  before  the  dawn 
He  died,  etc. 

When  dey  put  him  in  de  ground, 

Poor  missis'  heart  was  broke ; 
When  I  heard  dat  hollow  sound, 

0  dear  !  I  t'ought  dat  I  would  choke 
When  I  heard,  etc. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  299 

Do'  vay  sorrow  is  so  great, 

I  '11  strive  my  tears  to  dry  ; 
But  when  I  see  poor  missis 

I  alway9  den  am  6ure  to  cry. 
But  when,  etc. 

And  dere  's  de  orphan  chilluns, 

What  can  poor  nigger  do  ? 
I  '11  be  dero  fait'ftil  nigger, 

And  try  to  be  dere  furcr  too. 
I'll  be  dere,  etc. 

V  mm 

The  public  road  was  quite  sandy,  and  there  was  a  "  clump 
of  trees"  between  it  and  the  fence  upon  which  Old  Toncy 
sat,  so  that  he  did  not  hear  the  tramp  of  a  horse  which 
was  approaching,  and  upon  which  was  seated  a  traveler,  who 
had  reined  in  his  steed  to  listen,  unseen,  to  the  song  of  the 
old  negro.  The  traveler  had  spoken  once  after  the  song 
ceased  ;  but  Old  Toney  was  so  much  absorbed  by  his  feel- 
ings, and  the  contemplation  of  his  own  sorrows,  that  he  did 
not  hear  the  "hello"  of  the  stranger.  And  is  it  not  true, 
that  when  a  man's  heart  is  sad,  and  his  soul  is  exceeding 
sorrowful,  he  can  listen  to  scarcely  any  other  sound,  and 
hear  scarcely  any  other  voice  than  his  own,  however  loud 
that  other  voice  may  be,  when  he  is  humming  some  plaint- 
ive song,  as  if  it  were  sweet  music,  although,  in  reality,  the 
tones  which  affect  him  may  be  harsh,  and  possess  no  melody 
to  the  ears  of  another  ?  Thus  the  raven  listens  with  rap- 
ture to  its  own  harsh  croakings  ;  and  the  night-owl,  upon 
his  lonely  perch,  with  its  dismal  hootings,  wakes  the  still- 
ness of  the  forest  with  its  unceasing  echoes,  and  thinks  the 
music  of  his  deep,  bass  voice  is  grander  than  the  sweet 
tenor  of  the  whip-poor-will,  or  the  melodious  song  of  the 
nightingale. 

But  Old  Toney's  voice  was  not  so  rough  that  it  could 
not  charm  the  ears  of  a  Southern  man  of  kindly  spirit;  for 
it  is  only  one  who  has  been  brought  up  in  daily  contact 
and  friendly  intercourse  with  the  Southern  slave  who  can 
sec  virtues  in  the  negro  where  another  could  not  see  them, 
or  discover  music  in  a  Voice  which  might  seem  harsh  to  the 


300  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

ears  of  a  Northern  man  ;  just  as  the  Frenchman  listens  with 
rapture  to  the  "  blood-an-own"  cry  of  the  "  grenouille,"  or 
large  bull-frog,  and  thinks  the  music  of  his  voice  so  sweet, 
because  his  flesh  makes  "  un  grand  fricassee  ;  "  so  that  what 
might  excite  the  sympathies  of  the  one,  would  only  excite 
the  disgust  or  contemptuous  laughter  of  the  other. 

The  listener  certainly  must  have  been  of  this  latter  class, 
and  the  reader  will  say  that  he  was  an  Abolitionist  at  heart ; 
and  Old  Toney  himself  was  as  much  astonished  by  the  words 
of  the  stranger,  as  by  his  "Hello,"  a  second  time  repeated. 
The  old  negro  leaped  like  a  young  man  from  his  seat  upon 
the  fence-rail,  and,  pushing  aside  the  tall  underbrush  which 
had  completely  concealed  from  his  view  the  form  of  the 
traveler,  walked  leisurely  toward  the  public  road,  where  the 
stranger  awaited  his  coming. 

"  Hello  !  there,  you  old  darkey ;  what  wicked  song  is  that 
you  have  been  singing?" 

"  Wicked  song,  masser  !  You  extonish  me  berry  much  ! 
/  fought  dat  it  was  a  berry  good  song ;  for  it  bring  de  tears 
to  my  eyes  t'inking  'bout  my  poor  old  masser,"  said  Old 
Toney,  with  a  sigh. 

u  It  is  a  wicked  song  !  a  very  wicked  song  !  "  retorted  the 
stranger ;  "  for  the  Bible,  which  is  the  best  of  all  books, 
tells  us  to  call  no  man  master  save  our  master  in  heaven." 

"  Yes,  masser,  dat  is  true — berry  true ;  but,  you  see,  my 
masser  is  in  heaben ;  for  he  went  dere  ebber  since  last  win- 
ter. It's  been  free  munfs  since  my  blessed  old  masser, 
Colonel  Shelton,  took  his  journey  for  his  long  home;"  and 
Old  Toney  brought  a  deep  sigh. 

"  And  he  is  just  where  every  Southern  planter  ought  to 
be,  old  man  ;  for,  I  tell  you,  you  want  enlightenment  on 
this  subject.  Your  master  never  went — could  not  be  ad- 
mitted into  heaven.  If  he  is  dead,  as  you  say,  he  is  in  hell ! 
for  no  slaveholder  can  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven!" 

Had  Old  Toney  heard  the  loudest  clap  of  thunder  from 
the  most  serene  and  cloudless  sky,  he  could  not  have  been 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  301 

more  astonished  and  amazed.  He  looked  at  the  stranger 
for  a  while,  then  looked  upon  the  ground ;  looked  up  and 
looked  down  again ;  put  his  hands  in  his  pocket,  and  pulled 
them  out  again.  He  seemed  to  be  in  a  quandary  what  to 
say  or  do,  or  in  what  manner  to  treat  the  man  who  had 
uttered  what  he  regarded  to  be  such  downright  blasphemy. 
At  length  he  raised  his  head,  to  be  hung  no  more  in  con- 
fusion ;  and  aping,  in  appearance,  but  feeling,  in  reality, 
something  of  the  dignity,  the  offended  dignity,  of  the 
Southern  planter,  with  his  hands  crossed  under  his  coat- 
tail,  and  his  head  thrown  far  back,  and  his  single  eye  flash- 
ing fire,  he  looked  the  stranger  in  the  face  with  a  steady 
gaze,  and  with  his  lips  compressed  together  : 

"Look  yer,  masser,  war  you  come  from?"  asked  the  old 
man,  as  he  seemed  to  cock  one  eye,  and  then  squint  the 
other. 

"I  come  from  Boston,  way  up  to  the  North,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  I  fought  so  ;  I  fought  you  was  a  Yankee,  come  from 
de  big  Norrud,  as  soon  as  I  got  de  sound  ob  your  voice. 
Well,  look  yer,  masser,  just  turn  your  horse's  head  turrer 
way,  and  go  back  where  you  come  from.  You  ain't  fittin' 
to  go  lib  'mong  niggers,  nor  white  folks  neader.  And  I 
tell  you  for  sartin,  if  you  come  talkin'  'bout  our  Soudern 
planters  dat  way,  you  will  get  a  lickin'.  And  please  God, 
masser,  aldo  you  is  a  white  buckra,  and  I  is  a  black  nigger, 
if  you  talk  dat  way  'bout  my  masser,  my  poor,  dead  masser, 
I  finks  de  law  would  bear  me  out  in  lickin'  you  myself. 
But  law  or  no  law,  I  will  call  my  son,  nyung  Toney  here, 
and  niek  him  lick  you  for  me.  I  let  you  know,  sir,  dat  my 
masser  nebber  larn  de  road  to  hell,  and  could  nebber  larn 
'um  if  he  had  lib  a  t'ousand  years,  like  Mephistoosala.  Col- 
onel Shelton  now  is  sittin'  on  a  higher  seat  in  heaben,  sir, 
dan  you,  or  any  udder  man  like  you,  can  ebber  hope  to  sit. 
You  better  go  back  where  you  come  from.  Gro  back,  masser. 
to  de  big  Norrud.     You  ain't  fittin'  to  lib  'mong  niggers." 


302  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

The  stranger  from  Boston  found  out  that  "  he  had  woke 
up  the  wrong  customer  " — that  he  had  allowed  his  indiscre- 
tion to  place  him  in  a  trap  from  which  it  would  require 
even  more  than  ordinary  Yankee  ingenuity  to  extricate 
himself.  He  tried  to  persuade  Old  Toney  that  it  was  all  a 
harmless  joke  ;  that  he  believed  as  strongly  in  slavery  as 
Old  Toney  himself,  or  any  other  Southern  man.  In  short, 
he  said  a  great  many  things,  and  used  a  great  deal  of  flat- 
tery, to  soothe  the  angry  feelings  of  the  old  negro.  And  it 
must  be  confessed  that  the  obsequious  and  cringing  flatter- 
ies of  the  traveler  had  considerable  influence  in  mollify- 
ing the  feelings  of  the  old  man — feelings  which  had  been 
aroused  in  consequence  of  the  stranger's  harsh  remark  con- 
cerning Colonel  Shelton,  and  the  downright  falsehood  which 
had  been  uttered  by  the  Abolitionist,  that  "  no  slaveholder 
could  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

Perceiving  that  he  had  partially  succeeded  in  allaying  the 
wrath  of  the  old  man,  the  traveler  inquired,  in  the  meekest, 
blandest  tones  imaginable,  if  it  was  possible  to  be  accom- 
modated anywhere  in  that  region  with  a  night's  lodging — 
"entertainment  for  man  and  beast" — that  he  had  money, 
and  could  pay  for  the  privilege  as  well  as  any  other  man. 
In  short,  could  he  or  his  folk  "  let  him  stay  until  after  the 
Sabbath,  as  he  never  liked  to  travel  on  that  day,  and  he 
would  pay  the  usual  rates." 

"  Masser,"  was  the  reply  of  Old  Toney,  "  in  Colonel  Shel- 
ton's  lifetime  it  was  his  rule  nebber  to  turn  off  a  stranger, 
and  he  nebber  took  money  or  pay,  in  any  way,  from  a  trab'- 
ler  in  all  his  life.  Now,  I  hab  de  management,  and  I  wants 
to  imitate  my  ole  masser  as  nigh  as  I  can.  I  can't  wear 
masser's  shoes,  'case  my  foot  is  too  big ;  and  I  can't  step  in 
masser's  track,  'case  my  foot  would  out  'um.  But  I  want  to 
step  close  by  'um,  so  I  can,  ebbry  now  and  den,  look  down  and 
see  if  I  goin'  straight.  So,  masser,  you  can  stay  at  my  house 
wid  my  missis,  perwided,  as  Masser  Green  say,  when  dat  word 
bodder  me  so  in  de  will-case — I  did  n't  know  de  meanin'  ob 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  303 

it  den — perwided  you  behave  yourself  like  a  gentleman  ought 
to  behave  himself." 

"0,  certainly,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a  cheerful  laugh. 
"  I  am  a  gentleman — nothing  but  a  gentleman.  I  hope  you 
don't  doubt  that,  old  man." 

"  Well,  masser,  I  dunno  wha'  for  say.  You  looks  like  a 
gentleman  ;  you  wear  fine  broadclot'  clo's  like  a  gentleman  ; 
you  hab  good  hat  and  good  boot  on  ;  and,  masser,  you  got  a 
berry  fine  horse.     Ee  sound,  masser?"  « 

"  Perfectly  sound — sound  as  a  dollar." 

"  And  ee  got  a  berry  fine  eye — a  berry  fine  eye  indeed ; 
ain't  old — nyung,  enty?"  looking  into  his  mouth  and  exam- 
ining his  teeth. 

"  Yes,  he  is  young — only  five  years  old,"  said  the  stranger, 
with  a  smile. 

"  I  fought  so,"  said  Old  Toney,  triumphantly.  "  I  hold 
myself  to  be  a  great  judge  ob  a  good  horse.  So  he  is 
nyung,  and  he  is  sound,  and  gentle,  too,  masser?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  very  kind  indeed.  You  can  make  him  do 
almost  anything  you  want  to." 

"  I  'sure  you,  gentle,  and  sound,  and  nyung,  and  got  a 
fine  eye — a  berry  fine  eye.  Well,  masser,  I  dunno  wha' 
to  say.  If  I  had  n't  yerry  you  say  wha'  you  did,  I  would 
t'ink  you  was  a  gentleman,  wid  such  a  horse,  and  such  clo's 
on.  But  now  I  dunno.  I  only  hab  fur  take  you  on  trust, 
and  keep  sharp  eye  on  you.  You  can  come  'long,  masser. 
Follow  on  straight  arter  me." 

As  they  went  on  thus  toward  the  house,  Old  Toney  walk- 
ing in  front  and  the  stranger  riding  in  the  rear,  the  old  negro 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  look  back,  ever  and  anon, 
at  the  splendid  animal  which  the  traveler  rode.  He  was  a 
fine,  large,  and  perfectly-formed  horse,  of  a  beautiful  deep 
bay  color.  Old  Toney  was  a  connoisseur  in  horse-flesh,  and 
he  looked  upon  the  noble  steed  with  the  eye  of  one  who 
had  been  trained  in  a  school,  or  had  lived  in  a  stable  where 
none  but  the  finest  horses  had  ever  stamped  upon  the  floor 
or  trod  upon  the  turf. 


304  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

"  Dat  is  a  berry  fine  horse  ob  yours,  masser — a  berry  fine 
horse  ;  and  he  hab  a  berry  fine  eye." 

"  Yes,  old  man,"  replied  the  stranger,  patting  his  horse's 
neck  with  pride  and  secret  satisfaction,  "  he  is,  indeed,  a 
fine  animal;  but  he  cost  me  a  very  fine  price." 

"  Berry  well,  I  'sure  you.  And  how  much  you  gib  for 
'urn?" 

"I  gave  three  hundred  dollars,"  was  the  modest  reply. 

"*T'ree  hundred  dollars ;  berry  well  ;  and  he  wut  ebbry 
dollar  you  gib  for  'urn.  T'ree  hundred  dollar ;  and  he  got 
such  a  fine  eye  !  Masser,  T  declare  I  would  n't  trade  'urn ; 
for  if  he  good  as  he  look,  he  is  well  wut  ebbry  dollar  you 
pay  for  'am,  /  would  nebber  trade  or  sell  dat  horse  as  long 
as  lie  keep  dat  same  eye  in  ee  head." 

Let  me  tell  the  reader  something  about  the  history  of 
this  horse,  and  how  he  came  into  the  possession  of  Rev. 
Alfred  Orton ;  for  it  was  he,  and  no  other,  who  sat  astride 
the  splendid  animal. 

When  Mr.  Orton  reached  Savannah,  in  the  fast-sailing 
schooner  "Excel,"  after  a  quick  passage  of  seven  or  eight 
days,  he  very  wisely  concluded  that  it  would  not  be  prudent 
to  remain  in  a  city  where  he  was  liable,  at  any  moment,  to 
be  recognized  by  gentlemen  hailing  from  Boston,  who  would, 
upon  receiving  information  of  his  cruelty  to  little  Johnny, 
either  denounce  him  as  a  bad  man  or  a  downright  impostor. 
So  he  resolved  to  strike  out  for  the  country,  and  try  his 
hand  at  anything  in  the  way  of  trade,  (except  his  old  trade 
or  profession  of  blacking  boots,)  from  making  wooden  nut- 
megs up  to  coining  pewter  half  dollars ;  repairing  clocks,  or 
putting  raw-hide  strings  into  an  old  banjo  or  a  piano,  and 
calling  them  "  new-fashioned,  lately  invented,  patent  cat- 
gut;" in  short,  anything  and  everything,  about  which  he 
knew  perhaps  little  or  nothing ;  for  such  is  the  usual  practice 
of  the  "  rough-scuff"  of  Yankeedom  who  go  South  to  make  a 
fortune  in  a  hurry  out  of  the  "  poor,  ignorant,  squash-pated, 
or  leather-headed  Southerners,"  as  they  call  them.     After 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  305 

paying  his  passage  "  in  advance,"  and  his  board-bill  at  the 
hotel — or,  rather,  the  old  "  Mansion  House,"  which  used  to 
stand  at  the  corner  of  Broughton  and  another  street,  the  name 
of  which  the  author  does  not  now  remember — Mr,  Orton 
found  that  he  had  but  twenty  dollars  left,  and  he  determined 
either  to  buy  or  hire  a  horse  with  this  sum,  and  try  his  hand 
a  little  at  horse  trading  and  a  good  deal  at  preaching  in  the 
country,  as  a  special  missionary  sent  out  by  the  Northern 
Churches  to  collect  funds  for  the  poor  Esquimaux  in  Green- 
land. 

"  Yes,  that  will  do — a  bright  idea — a  capital  Yankee  in- 
vention— that  card  is  trumps,"  said  the  Rev.  Alfred,  chuck- 
ling with  inward  satisfaction,  and  talking  to  himself  in  a 
low  tone,  Jtjiat  no  one  might  hear,  although  no  one  was 
within  twenty  yards  of  him.  "  They  have  all — I  mean 
these  ignorant  Southerners,  who  are  little  better  than  sav- 
ages  themselves — they  have  all  heard  the  song,  '  From 
Greenland's  icy  mountains,'  and  the  greenhorns  will  think, 
no  doubt,  that  I  am  right  from  Greenland  myself.  Indeed, 
I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  n't  tell  them  that  I  am  a 
regular  out-and-out  Esquimaux,  converted  to  grace,  and 
wanting  to  convert  the  rest  of  my  poor,  ignorant  country- 
men. For  these  ignorant  Southerners,  I  am  told,  will 
believe  anything,  however  outri  or  absurd,  that  a  Yankee 
will  tell  them.  If  they  will  swallow  a  wooden  nutmeg  and 
never  once  detect  the  taste  of  the  Northern  pine  or  cedar 
out  of  which  it  is  made,  and  never  suspect,  by  the  weight 
of  a  grindstone  done  up  in  canvas,  that  it  is  not  a  genuine 
cheese,  nor  that  the  chirping  of  a  cricket  tied  by  its  hind 
leg  to  the  cog-wheel  of  an  old  wooden  clock  which  has  been 
long  since  worn  out  and  cast  away  in  Yankee  land — bah,  what 
dupes  they  must  be  !  Well,  here  I  am,  at  the  upper  end  of 
Broughton  street,  and  here  is  what  they  call,  at  the  South, 
a  livery  stable,  is  it?  A  grand  livery  stable  that!  It  looks 
more  like  an  old  dilapidated  barn,  or  a  large  heow-liouse 
where  they  winter  their  keows  in  old  Massachusetts." 


306  OLD   TONEY    AND   HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

A  bargain  was  soon  struck  between  Mr.  Orton  and  the 
horse-dealer,  who,  having  about  as  keen  an  eye  to  his  own 
interests  and  as  elastic  a  conscience  as  the  Abolitionist, 
determined  that  the  Yankee  should  pay  for  his  ride  if  he 
killed  his  horse.  The  price  which  he  charged  for  two  days' 
ride  into  the  country,  was  equivalent  to  a  sale  of  the  horse, 
being  twenty  dollars,  just  ten  dollars  per  day. 

"I  don't  like  the  looks  of  that  Yankee  fellow,"  said  the 
partner  of  Mr.  Kittles.  "Didn't  he  say  that  he  was  a  par- 
son, going  into  the  country  to  preach  a  little?" 

"Yes,  that's  what  he  said;  can't  you  see,  by  his  white 
gills,  that  he  is  chuck  full  of  cod-liver  oil?" 

"Well,  if  he  is  a  Yankee  parson,  I  doubt  very  much  if 
you  ever  see  your  horse  again  !  These  parsons  from  Yan- 
keedom — most  of  them,  although  I  must  confess  there  are 
some  very  fine  fellows  among  them — but  most  of  'em,  I 
reckon,  are  pretty  slippery  fellows.*  Why,  I'll  tell  you 
what  I  knew  one  of  'em  to  do  once  ;  he  came  out  South,  he 
said,  for  his  health,  and  to  rest  his  throat,  which  had 
almost  worn  out,  and  had  got  very  sore  from  reading  his  ser- 
mons in  a  cold  climate.  Well,  he  wanted  something  to  do, 
and  thought  he  would  make  a  little  money  by  practicing 
dentistry,  or  rather,  what  I  call  tooth-carpentering.  So  he 
got  an  old  jaw-bone  of  a  dead  horse,  and  borrowed  a  gimlet 
from  a  carpenter,  and  an  awl  and  a  punch  from  a  shoe- 
maker, and  at  it  he  went,  learning  dentistry.  With  the 
gimlet  and  the  awl  he  bored  holes  in  the  jaw-teeth  and  the 
front-teeth  of  the  dead  horse,  and  rammed  in  with  the  awl 
and  the  punch  little  pieces  of  lead  which  he  got  from  an 
old  tea-caddy.  In  three  weeks'  time  he  called  himself 
'  Doctor  Amsterdam,  Surgeon  Dentist,  from  Vermont,'  and 
went  about  the  country  boring  holes  into  people's  teeth 
where  there  was  n't  a  sign  of  decay,  and  plugging  up  the 
cavities  with  tin-foil.     But  when  any  one  who  did  n't  mind 

*  The  author  disclaims  this  as  his  own  individual  sentiment. 


THE  ABOLITIONIST  AND  THE   LAND-PIRATE.  307 

the  expense  insisted  upon  his  using  gold-leaf,  although  he 
hated,  like  the  deuce,  to  swap  gold  for  silver,  he  would 
sometimes  do  it,  or  pretend  to  do  so.*  Well,  sir,  would 
you  believe  it,  how  that  fellow  served  an  old  lady  who 
happened  to  have  a  very  large  hollow  in  the  biggest  stump 
of  a  jaw-tooth  you  ever  saw — a  hollow  big  enough,  almost, 
for  a  rabbit  to  hide  in.  Well,  sir,  she  had  insisted  upon 
gold — nothing  but  'gould,'  she  said,  was  going  into  her 
mouth.  '  None  of  yoiy  tin,'  she  said,  '  'twill  spile  the  taste 
of  my  water ;  nor  none  of  your  lead,  that  might  give  mo 
the  cramp-colics,  and  make  me  take  to  drinkin'  campfire. 
If  you  put  anything  into  my  mouth,  it  must  be  gould  ! 
mind  now,  none  of  your  Yankee  manufacture,  but  genuine 
gould  out  of  the  gould-mines.'  When  the  Yankee  preacher 
heard  that,  he  laughed  or  smiled  outwardly,  but  he  groaned 
in  spirit,  for  he  had  but  little  gold-leaf  left.  He  had 
started  out  with  but  two  leaves,  and  now  he  had  not  half 
enough  to  fill  the  remotest  corner  of  that  hollow  stump. 
So  he  thought  a  while,  and  then  he  said,  '  Yes,  madam,  I 
will  do  it.'  '  Thank  you,  sir,'  said  the  old  lady.  She  sup- 
posed that  he  had  promised  to  fill  the  cavity  with  pure 
gold-leaf,  as  she  desired.  No  such  thing.  When  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Amsterdam  said  '  I  will  do  it,'  he  meant  simply  to  say 
that  he  would  perform,  for  her  special  benefit,  a  nice  little 
innocent  Yankee  trick,  by  which  he  would  do  her  no  very 
great  harm,  and  benefit  himself  a  good  deal.  He  meant  to 
split  the  difference  between  the  old  lady  and  his  conscience 
— between  the  big  hollow  and  the  little  bit  of  gold-leaf. 
How  do  you  think  he  managed  it?" 

"Well,  I  declare  I  can't  imagine,"  was  the  reply  of  Mr. 
Kittles. 

"  Well,  sir,  he  filled  up  that  cavity  with  a  piece  of  cotton, 
which  he  said  was  to  clean  it  out,  but  he  left  it  there,  and 
then,  with  a  little  soft,  prepared  glue,  he  stuck  on  a  bit  of  gold- 

*  A  literal  fact,  but  the  name  suppressed. 


308  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

leaf,  as  big  as  your  thumb-nail,  right  upon  the  top  of  the  cot- 
ton ;  then  he  called  upon  several  people  to  look  at  what  a  beau- 
tiful gold  plug  he  had  put  into  the  old  lady's  hollow  tooth. 
It  was  a  beautiful  fit,  as  nice  a  looking  plug  as  you  ever 
saw ;  but  the  next  day  cotton,  gold-leaf  and  all  came  out 
together;  but  the  reverend  dentist  was  a  good  ways  off — ■ 
several  miles.  The  old  lady  lost  her  five  dollars,  and  the 
gold-leaf  was  no  manner  of  account  but  to  sprinkle  iced- 
cake  with,  and  there  were  no  weddings  on  hand  just  about 
then.  Take  care,  Kittles,  we  do  n't  lose  our  horse  as  the 
old  lady  lost  her  plug." 

"0,  well,"  said  Kittles,  a  little  petulantly,  "it  wouldn't 
be  much  if  we  do  lose  him,  for  he  is  nothing  but  a  wind- 
broken,  wind-sucking  beast ;  and  then  he  is  blind  in  one 
eye,  and,  in  a  month  or  two,  he  will  be  blind  in  the  other." 

"Yes,  that  is  true.  If  he  never  comes  back,  you  have 
sold  the  horse  pretty  well,  although  we  might  have  stuck 
him  upon  some  greenhorn  for  perhaps  twice  the  money, 
with  a  little  management." 

Mr.  Alfred  Orton  hadn't  heard  all  this  talk  behind  his 
back,  but  his  ears  tingled,  and  his  heart  leaped  with  joy  as 
he  went  further  into  the  interior  of  the  State  and  saw  that 
he  was  not  pursued.  "  Ah,  Mr,  Kittles,  you  thought  you 
had  jockeyed  me,  did  you,  when  you  charged  me  such  a 
price — such  an  exorbitant  price  for  only  two  days'  ride  ! 
Well,  now,  I  will  show  you  that  a  Yankee  parson  is  better 
on  a  horse-trade  than  a  horse-jockey  who  thinks  himself 
ever  so  keen  !  You  thought,  in  your  heart,  that  I  might 
not  return  with  the  horse,  and  that  is  the  reason  you 
charged  me  only  about  half  price !  Well,  I  won't  disap- 
point your  expectations,  Mr.  Kittles  !  " 

But  Mr.  Orton  felt  a  little  uneasy,  as  we  before  intimated, 
about  pursuit,  and  his  guilty  conscience  made  him  look 
back,  every  now  and  then,  to  see  if  any  one  was  coming- 
after  him  to  take  away  the  horse.  So  he  determined  to 
swap  him  oflF  as  soon  as  possible,  and  make  tracks  for  South 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  309 

Carolina.  But  he  would  not  have  been  so  very  uneasy  if 
he  had  known  that  in  Georgia  .any  one  had  a  perfect  right 
to  steal  a  horse,  provided  he  managed  the  thing  with  dex- 
terity, and  was  never  caught  in  the  act  of  horse-stealing  ; 
and  that  even  then,  the  horse-thief  was  sometimes,  though 
not  always,  rewarded  with  good  board  and  comfortable 
lodgings  at  Milledgeville,  the  capital  of  the  State,  all 
"free  gratis  and  for  nothing,"  for  a  term  of  years.  Nor 
did  he  know  that  in  some  parts  of  South  Carolina  even,  a 
man  who  could  cheat  his  neighbor  out  of  every  horse  he 
had,  and,  for  that  matter,  out  of  all  his  lands  and  negroes — 
would  be  considered  "  a  very  smart  fellow,  who  deserved 
even  more  than  a  leather  medal  ;  deserved  a  great  deal  of 
credit" — credit  for  "easing  his  neighbor  of  a  few  thou- 
sands "  which  were  only  "  burdens  to  his  neighbor,"  and 
helping  himself  so  bountifully  to  his  neighbor's  goods,  by 
permission  of  said  neighbor,  however,  who  was  fool  enough 
to  be  gulled  by  said  "smart  fellow." 

Alfred  Orton  swapped  horses  with  the  very  first  man  he 
met,  and  got  "loot"  and  then  he  swapped  again,  and  got 
boot  this  time  also.  Indeed,  in  his  very  first  swap,  he 
determined  to  adopt  the  horse-jockey's  rule,  "  never  to  swap 
unless  he  got  boot."  Thus  he  went  higher  up  the  country, 
swapping  and  getting  boot,  until,  at  last,  he  got  a  very  fine 
horse  from  a  man  who  had  stolen  him  in  South  Carolina, 
and  was  running  away  from  the  "hanging  law,"  which  he 
did  n't  like  so  well  as  the  penitentiary  business.  Mr.  Orton 
met  up  with  him  just  in  the  "  nick  of  time,"  when  the 
horse-thief  was  not  only  scared  out  of  his  life,  but  wanted 
a  little  money — "Anything,  if  it  was  only  ten  or  fifteen 
dollars  " — to  pay  his  way  on.  And  that  was  the  only  time 
Mr.  Orton  paid  any  boot  in  two  or  three  horse-swaps  which 
he  had  made  in  the  course  of  a  week.  So  Mr.  Orton  crossed 
the  river  at  Augusta,  and  found  himself  safely  hid  among 
the   pines   of  the  "Old  Palmetto   State,"  with  a  splendid 


310  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

animal  and  three  hundred  dollars  clear  money  in  his  pocket. 
He  had  just  been  thinking  what  a  good  week's  work  he  had 
made  of  it,  when  his  happy  thoughts  were  interrupted  by 
the  song  of  the  old  negro,  as  he  sat  upon  the  fence  mourn- 
ing, and  pouring  out  his  lamentations  concerning  his  dead 
master. 

But  now  that  they  are  at  the  little  wicker-gate  of  the 
flower-garden,  and  as  Mr.  Orton  dismounts  from  his  horse, 
Old  Toney  asks  him,  as  he  takes  hold  of  the  bridle  : 

"What's  your  name,  masser?  You  ain't  tell  me  your 
name  yet?" 

"  Orton — Rev.  Alfred  Orton,"  was  the  reply. 

"You  a  preacher,  massa?"  asked  Old  Toney,  in  surprise 
and  agitation. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  a  minister  of  the  G-ospel,  and  preach,  or  try 
to  do  so,  sometimes ;  and  I  would  like  to  preach  for  you 
before  I  go  away.  Would  there  be  any  objections?  For  I 
see  you  have  a  little  church  about  two  miles  back,  which  I 
passed  on  my  way  hither." 

"Objections!  bless  de  Lord,  no,  masser!  We  hab  a 
church  dere,  it  is  true ;  but  we  do  n't  hab  preachin'  in  'um 
more  dan  once  in  t'ree  munts.  T'ree  whole  munts,  masser, 
is  too  long.  Now,  I  can  feed  berry  well  on  sarment  once 
a  munt !  Dat  will  do  for  my  breakwas.  But  when  ee  go  free 
whole  munts,  den  poor  nigger  hab  no  dinner  nor  supper, 
and  he  get  so  hongry  dat  his  fait'  get  berry  weak  before 
quarterly-meetin'-time  come  round.  And  so,  masser,  you  is 
a  preacher,"  said  Old  Toney,  lifting  his  shaggy  snow-white 
eyebrows  in  amazement,  as  he  stepped  around  the  stranger 
and  surveyed  him  with  the  admiration  of  a  horse-jockey 
who  is  silently  noting,  in  his  own  mind,  all  the  fine  points 
of  a  full-blooded  horse.  "A  preacher,  eh!  De  good  Lord 
be  praised!  How  come  you,  masser,  no  fur  let  me  know? 
I  nebber  would  'a  said  such  a  wicked  word  to  you.  Pardon 
me,  masser.     I  didn't  know  you  was  a  preacher.     Ain't  a 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  311 

preacher  hab  '  license  ?  '  A  parson  same  like  a  woman,  mas- 
ter ;  cley  is  privileged  characters,  and  has  de  perfect  right 
to  say  whatebber  dey  please." 

Mr.  Orton  assured  him,  with  a  bland  smile,  that  he  had 
his  entire  forgiveness,  and  hoped  the  old  man  would  for- 
give, or  think  no  more,  of  his  thoughtlessness  and  uninten- 
tional rudeness. 

"Go  in  de  house,  masser,  and  God  bless  you!"  said  the 
old  man,  cordially.  "  You  is  berry  welcome,  and  your  horse 
shall  be  welcome,  too ;  for  he  shall  hab  plenty  ob  corn,  and 
be  '  up  to  his  eyes  '  in  clean  oats.  Go  in,  masser.  Missis 
berry  glad  to  see  all  de  preachers,  and  will  mek  you  berry 
welcome." 

Mr.  Orton  went  into  the  house  as  directed,  and  introduced 
himself  as  a  traveling  clergyman  from  Boston ;  and  Old 
Toney  carried  his  horse  around  to  the  stable ;  and  as  he 
went,  the  old  man  kept  on  saying  aloud,  but  in  an  under  tone 
of  exultation,  "A  preacher,  enty  ?  Berry  well,  I  'sure  you  ! 
A  preacher,  for  true  !  " 


312  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 


CHAPTER  II. 

JCmRS.  SHELTON  was  very  much  delighted  with  Mr. 
0jW  I  ^r^onj  wnom  s^e  regarded,  upon  first  acquaintance, 
fejQA%)   as  an  excellent,  godly  man.     Not  so,  however,  with 

^(Dp  Ella  Shelton,  who  felt  an  instinctive  aversion  for  the 
man  who  looked  so  boldly  and  so  frequently  at  her, 
with  a  singular  expression  in  his  eyes,  which  caused  her  to 
blush  and  to  lower  her  head  in  evident  confusion.  Rev. 
Alfred  Orton  mistook  this  manifestation  of  maidenly  mod- 
esty for  love ;  and  the  godly  saint  was  very  careful  to  im- 
press upon  her  the  statement,  so  false,  that  he  was  a  single 
man,  and,  therefore,  upon  the  matrimonial  carpet  in  search 
of  a  wife. 

Mrs.  Shelton  had  gone  out  of  the  room  while  her  daugh- 
ter was  playing  upon  the  harp  one  of  her  sweet  songs,  at 
the  request  of  the  stranger.  Ella  had  just  finished  her  song, 
and  her  hand  was  still  resting  gracefully  upon  the  instru- 
ment, when  Alfred  Orton  suddenly  took  hold  of  it,  and 
attempted  to  press  it  to  his  lips.  The  queenly  maiden 
pulled  her  hand  away,  and  gave  him  a  look  of  indignant 
surprise.  With  cool  scorn  she  surveyed  him  from  head  to 
foot,  and  then  left  him  alone  in  the  room  without  saying  a 
word ;  leaving  the  amorous  but  cowardly  Orton  trembling 
with  fright  lest  she  had  gone  to  call  in  Old  Toney  and  his 
dark  sons,  for  the  purpose  of  chastising  his  insolence. 

When  in  Boston  he  had  been  guilty  of  gross  rudeness 
and  similar  evil  intentions  toward   Mrs.  Williston,  he  had 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  313 

been  rebuked  with  the  queenly  scorn  of  a  virtuous  woman, 
who  felt  that  her  waist  had  been  polluted  by  the  desecrating 
touch  of  a  libertine.  If,  at  that  time,  Orton  had  been  hum- 
bled and  abashed  by  the  withering  scorn  of  a  Northern 
empress,  he  was  no  less  abashed  and  cowering  before  the 
wilting  contempt  of  a  Southern  queen.  He  attempted  to 
call  her  back,  to  explain  his  motives,  and  assure  her  that 
his  conduct  was  only  the  natural  impulse  of  a  heart  overcome 
by  admiration  of  her  skill  as  a  musician.  Ella  Shelton  did 
not  stop  to  listen  to  any  explanations  from  his  false  lips, 
but  went  straight  to  her  room  and  locked  her  door.  When 
she  was  alone,  she  threw  herself  upon  her  bed  and  wept 
most  passionately.  In  her  heart  she  knew,  by  intuition,  that 
the  Northern  preacher  was  a  villain,  and  she  felt  that  he 
had  intended  to  offer  her  an  indignity.  So  mortified  was 
her  proud  spirit,  that  she  would  have  felt  greatly  humbled 
if  any  one,  even  her  mother,  should  know  how  deeply 
wounded  had  been  her  honor  by  the  lascivious  looks  and 
unmanly  action  of  the  stranger. 

Thus  it  is  ever  the  case  with  the  virtuous,  and  high-born, 
and  sensitive  woman  when  insulted  by  some  base-born  hind. 
She  will  never  let  the  world  know,  and  will  seek  to  hide  it 
from  her  dearest  friends,  that  she  has  been  the  victim  of 
his  persecuting  attentions  or  base  machinations.  It  is  only 
in  extreme  cases  that  she  seeks  redress  for  her  wrongs, 
and  throws  herself  under  the  protection  of  one  who  shall 
promise  to  become  her  champion  and  her  avenger.  Hence, 
many  a  rascal  has  escaped  chastisement  purely  from  the  self- 
respect  and  womanly  pride  of  the  wife  or  the  maiden,  who 
feels  that  she  would  be  exposing  her  own  shame  in  appear- 
ance, though  not  in  reality,  by  calling  in  a  friend  or  pro- 
tector to  avenge  the  insult  offered  to  her  chaste  spirit. 

The  Sabbath  morning  came,  and  Ella  Shelton  met  Mr. 
Orton  with  that  distant  and  contemptuous  politeness  or 
hauteur  which  only  an  offended  woman  knows  how  to  as- 
sume, and  which  would  henceforth  teach  him  that  she  was 
14 


314  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER  J    OR, 

on  her  guard,  and  would  repel  his  slightest  advances  toward 
intimacy.  Mr.  Orton  looked  at  Mrs.  Shelton,  and  saw  no 
frown  upon  her  brow,  no  reserve  in  her  manner,  which  was 
the  same  as  last  night;  and  he  felt  greatly  relieved.  Just 
three  hours  after  breakfast,  Mrs.  Shelton,  with  her  hat  and 
shawl  on,  said,  with  a  smile  and  a  courtesy : 

"  The  carriage  is  at  the  door,  Mr.  Orton.  Ella  declines 
going,  but  I  am  ready  for  church.  I  have  sent  two  mes- 
sengers around  to  the  neighbors,  to  let  them  all  know  that 
there  will  be  preaching  to-day,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  a 
very  good  congregation  has  by  this  time  assembled  to  hear 
a  preacher  from  Boston." 

Mr.  Orton  preached  a  very  good  " sensation  sermon"  that 
day.  Although  he  knew  nothing,  had  never  felt  anything, 
of  the  grand  emotions  of  the  orator,  yet  he  had  a  good 
voice,  and  was  well  practiced  in  giving  utterance  to  grand- 
iloquent words  and  well-rounded  sentences.  There  was  but 
little  substance,  no  argument,  no  sentiment,  in  his  discourse, 
but  it  was,  nevertheless,  a  telling  sermon,  and  produced  a 
feeling  effect  upon  that  particular  audience.  It  is  natural 
to  suppose  that  most  of  his  congregation,  who  heard  preach- 
ing so  seldom,  especially  the  more  ignorant  portion,  should 
be  highly  delighted.  Indeed,  one  old  lady  in  particular 
seemed  so  much  excited  by  the  discourse  that  she  could  not 
help  screaming  aloud,  and  clapping  her  hands,  and  shouting 
"  Grlory !  "  She  astonished  even  the  reverend  impostor  him- 
self, for  he  had  never  heard  anything  like  it  before,  not 
even  in  that  most  excitable  of  little  towns,  Salem.  When 
the  old  lady  was  asked  afterward  what  part  of  the  discourse 
had  affected  her  so  much: 

"Q!"  said  she,  with  upturned  eyes  and  hands  clasped  in 
ecstasy,  "  I  was  almost  bilin'  over  all  the  time !  and  some- 
times I  had  to  stop  my  ears  with  both  hands,  to  keep  from 
bilin'  over  in  yearnest,  so  sweet  did  that  saint  on  earth 
preach  the  Word !  But  when,  one  time,  I  opened  my  ears 
again,  just  to  ketch  a  few  more  sweet  crumbs  which  was  a 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  315 

fallin'  like  pearls  from  his  lips,  and  hearn  him  tellkt'  about 
them  God-blessed  men,  Paul,  and  Silas,  and  Oicero,  and  Thim- 
blestockings,  and  the  value  of  Jehosaphat,  (valley  of  Je- 
hosaphat ?)  I  could  n't  stand  it  ;uiv  longer  !  I  had  to  holler  ; 
'specially  when  I  heard  him  say  '  the  value  of  Jehoshaphat ! ' 
And  I  thought  how  much  I  ought  to  value  Jehoshaphat, 
seeing  as  bow  H  did  my  poor  dear  old  grandfather  so  much 
gcoi].  and  kept  him  from  so  much  sin.  For  you  must  know 
that  my  poor  old  grandfather  used  to  cuss  a  good  deal  be- 
fore he  jined  the  Church  ;  but  arter  the  old  man  got  religion, 
whenever  he  was  tempted  that  way  he  always  used  to  say, 
'Jehoshaphat!'  But  sometimes  he  used  to  forget  himself, 
and  rip  out  an  oath  ;  but,  in  generally,  he  'd  check  himself 
in  time.  But  sometimes  the  dear,  good  old  man,  without 
meaning  any  harm,  used  to  say,  '  Damn  '—and  then  stop 
and  add,  'Jehoshaphat — Damn — Jehoshaphat!'  all  in  one 
breath.  lie  used  to  say,  then,  that  it  was  hard  work  '  to  split 
the  difference  '  between  his  religious  and  his  old  habits." 

If  such  was  the  effect  of  Mr.  Orton's  sermon  upon  some 
of  the  white  portion  of  his  audience,  it  produced  a  still  more 
powerful  impression,  in  appearance,  upon  the  black  people, 
who  regarded  him  as  somewhat  superior  to  the  ordinary 
preachers  they  were  accustomed  to  hear.  Old  Toncy  himself 
was  completely  carried  away  with  the  general  excitement, 
and  henceforth  he  resolved  that  as  long  as  the  preacher 
chose  to  stay  at  the  house  of  his  mistress,  no  other  hands 
1  ut  his  own  should  curry  and  clean  the  horse  of  that  "  God- 
blessed  man,  who  had  given  him  breakwas',  dinner,  and  supper, 
all  at  once  !  enough  to  last  him  long  enough  for  two  quarterly 
meetings,  and  mebbc  for  de  whole  year  !  " 

Thus  having  gained  the  ascendency — such  popularity  in 
the  community,  so  easily,  and  by  a  single  coup  de  main,  or 
rather  (■<>>//)  de  voix — Mr.  Orton  concluded  that  he  could  do 
no  better  than  to  remain  a.  little  while  where  he  was,  and 
practice  upon  a  people  whom  he  regarded  with  contempt, 
as  being  little  better  than  Esquimaux  ! 


316  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

"  Hum  !  "  lie  ejaculated  to  himself.  "  It  is  useless  to  talk 
to  these  people  about  Esquimaux,  for  they  are  no  better  than 
savages  themselves  !  They  have  heard,  for  they  sung  to-day, 
'  On  Jordan's  stormy  banks,'  but  I  doubt  very  much  if  they 
have  ever  heard  '  From  Greenland's  icy  mountains.'  I  think 
I  shall  stay  a  while  and  preach  to  them  until  I  have  given 
them  a  few  more  evidences  of  Yankee  power!" 

A  whole  month  passed  off,  and  Mr.  Orton  was  still  at  the 
house  of  Mrs.  Shelton,  preaching  on  Sundays,  and  riding 
around  to  the  neighbor's  houses,  delighting  them  all  by  his 
merry  jokes  and  amusing  stories;  so  that  they  all  thought 
him  a  capital  fellow.  To  Ella  Shelton  he  was  ever  respectful ; 
insomuch  that  she  began  to  upbraid  herself  for  being  too 
harsh  toward  him,  and  for,  perhaps,  entertaining  unfounded 
suspicions.  But  never  did  Mr.  Orton  fail  to  embrace  a 
private  opportunity  of  chucking  Fanny  under  the  chin,  or 
patting  her  cheeks,  and  telling  her  what  a  pretty  girl  she 
was — as  pretty  as  her  pretty  mistress — and  if  she  was  only 
in  a  free  state,  and  no  longer  a  slave,  she  could  marry  a 
white  man  as  good  and  as  sweet  as  himself,  and  drive  in  a 
carriage  of  her  own,  with  her  own  house  and  her  own  nice 
furniture,  and  her  own  servants — white  servants  at  that — to 
wait  upon  her,  and  call  her  'mistress!'" 

No  wonder  that  the  poor  girl's  head  was  turned  by  the 
artful  words  and  sweet  flatteries  of  the  wily,  oily  tongue  of 
the  Rev.  Alfred  Orton.  Fanny  soon  became  no  longer  the 
good  and  dutiful  servant  she  used  to  be ;  but  assumed  airs, 
and  used  insolent  language  toward  Mrs.  Shelton,  as  she  had 
never  done  in  her  life  before.  And  when,  upon  one  occasion, 
Fanny  was  not  only  exceedingly  impertinent  to  her  mistress, 
but  grossly  insolent  to  Ella,  Mrs.  Shelton  could  stand  it  no 
longer,  but  was  compelled  to  appeal  to  Old  Toney  for  pro- 
tection against  the  impudence  of  his  daughter,  and  to  threaten 
Fanny  herself  with  driving  her  away  from  her  sight  by 
putting  her  into  the  field  as  a  "hoe-hand." 

Old  Toney  was  even  more  indignant  at  Fanny's  conduct 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    ANP    THE    LAND-TIRATE.  317 

than  had  been  his  mistress  ;  and  he  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to 
administer  the  correction  which  her  willful  conduct  deserved. 
It  was  the  first  time  Fanny  had  ever  been  whipped  since 
she  was  a  very  small  child.  Mrs.  Shelton  had  never  laid 
the  weight  of  her  hand  upon  her,  nor  had  Colonel  Shelton, 
during  his  lifetime,  ever  seen  cause  to  punish  her.  In  fact, 
the  only  punishment,  she  had  ever  received  was  when  in  her 
infancy  her  little  faults  had  been  corrected  by  her  parents. 
To  be  whipped  now  by  her  old  father  for  "  Miss  Ella,"  with 
whom  she  had  so  often  played  and  romped  when  they  wore 
little  children — for  "  Miss  Ella,"  whom  she  had  ever  regarded 
as  a  companion  than  as  a  mistress — especially,  too,  after 
having  been  told  by  Mr.  Orton,  that  if  she  would  only  go 
to  a  free  state,  and,  by  flight,  rid  herself  of  her  bondage, 
she  would  be  as  grand  as  any  u  grand  lady,  either  North  or 
South" — why,  then,  in  her  indignation,  Fanny  resolved,  as 
some  other  girls  in  her  situation  would  have  clone,  to  go 
where  she  could  enjoy  the  luxury  of  being  her  own  mistress. 
That  very  night  she  told  Alfred  Orton  that  she  was  ready 
to  go  with  him  to  the  end  of  the  world  ! 

Nor  was  Mr.  Orton  idle  in  another  direction.  He  had  so 
completely  dazzled  the  imagination  of  George,  by  holding 
up  before  him  bright  pictures  of  wealth  and  independence, 
if  he  would  only  go  with  him  to  Philadelphia,  "where  he 
would  be  sure  to  marry  a  rich  young  lady,  who  would  glory 
in  his  ebony  skin,  and  carry  him  about  with  her  in  a  splendid 
carriage,  to  exhibit  him,  with  pride  and  exultation,  as  an 
African  prince" — that  George  grinned  from  ear  to  ear,  and 
scratched  his  head  I 

"  He  !  he  !  he  !  Mass'  Orton  !  Dat  mus'  be  a  great  country, 
fur  true,  where  black  boy  can  marry  white  gal !  If  titter 
Fanny  go,  I  gwine  wid  you,  sure  an'  for  sartin  !" 

So  the  matter  was  easily  arranged.  George  intentionally 
neglected  to  do  his  work  that  day,  or  did  it  so  badly  that 
Old  Toney  threatened  to  thrash  him  if  he  did  not  go  and 
do  it  over  as  it  ought  to  be  done.     Old  Toney  had  often 


318  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

threatened  to  thrash  his  son  George,  but  he  had  never  run 
away,  nor  had  ever  such  a  thought  entered  his  head.  But 
that  day  George  went  off  and  never  returned,  and  that  same 
night  Fanny  went  off  also  ;  meeting  her  brother  a  little  way 
from  the  house,  with  two  bundles  of  her  own  and  her  brother's 
clothing.  Two  days  afterward  Mr.  Orton  bade  adieu  to  Mrs. 
Shelton  and  her  daughter,  expressing  many  regrets  that  he 
was  compelled  to  leave  them,  and  hoping  that  it  would  not 
be  many  years  or  months  before  he  should  see  them  all  again 
in  that  neighborhood,  "  where  he  had  spent  the  most  pleasant 
days  of  his  life  !  " 

As  he  mounted  his  horse,  he  asked  Old  Toney  if  he  had 
heard  anything  of  his  "wicked  children  who  had  run  away 
from  so  excellent  a  mistress,  and  so  kind  a  father?" 

"  Not  a  word,  masser  !  not  a  word  !  "  said  Old  Toney,  with 
a  sigh. 

"Bad  children!  bad  children!"  said  Mr.  Orton.  "But 
never  mind,  old  man  ;  they  will  come  back  again ;  you  will 
see  them  soon,  I  hope." 

"  I  hope  so,  masser  !  I  hope  de  Lord  will  pinch  dem  wid 
honger,  so  dat  dey  will  be  'bleeged  to  come  home  and  git 
something  fur  eat." 

"Well,  good-by,  Old  Toney!  good-by!" 

"  Good-by,  masser !  good-by  !  God  bless  you !  and,  where- 
ebber  you  may  be,  pray  fur  Old  Toney,  and  his  missis,  and 
my  chiluns." 

"I  shall  never  forget  you  at  a  throne  of  grace!"  said 
Alfred  Orton,  solemnly,  as  he  turned  his  eyes  upward,  with 
the  hypocrisy  of  the  devil  himself!  Such  was  the  charac- 
ter  of   the  first  engineer   on   the  underground  railroad !  * 


*  In  this  description  of  the  Yankee  preacher  who  operated  as  the  first  engineer  on 
the  underground  railroad,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  author  is  not  attacking  the  clergy- 
men of  the  North  who  stay  at  home  and  preach  God's  WTord.  By  no  means.  For 
there  is  no  man  living  who  has  a  higher  respect  for  men  like  Dr.  Wayland,Dr.  McClay, 
Dr.  Adams,  of  Boston,  (the  latter  has  written  a  very  interesting  little  hook,  in  which 
he  acknowledges  that  his  views  have  undergone  great  changes  by  a  visit  to  the  South,) 
and  a  host  of  other  godly  men,  too  numerous  to  be  mentioned  here  ;  for  their  namos 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  319 

Have  the  successors  of  Alfred  Orton  improved  in  any  re- 
spect? 

Thus  parted  Old  Toney  and  Rev.  Alfred  Orton ;  but  they 
were  destined  to  meet  again  under  very  different  circumstances, 
and  woe  betide  the  man  who  mils  into  the  hands  of  an  enraged 
negro,  whose  patience  has  become  exhausted,  and  whose  anger 
has  become  thoroughly  aroused !  Whether  man  or  beast, 
wife  or  child,  he  knows  no  mercy  then,  if  unrestrained ;  and 
revenges  himself  upon  the  powerless  victim  of  his  infuriated 
passion,  with  as  little  humanity  as  the  savage,  and  with  all 
the  blind  fury  of  the  enraged  beast !  He  is  no  longer  a  mild, 
and  a  peaceable,  and  a  loving  spirit,  but  seems  possessed 
of  such  a  legion  of  devils  that  he  would  kill  himself,  perhaps, 
if  he  could  not  vent  his  spleen  upon  the  object  of  his  fierce 
wrath  and  fiery  indignation.  Look  to  yourself,  Mr.  Orton  ! 
Look  well  to  yourself,  we  say  ! 

"are  legion"  and,  if  published,  would  themselves  fill  many  volumes.  But  the  Rev. 
Alfred  Orton  is  a  bonajide  photograph  of  several  Northern  preachers,  who  were  not, 
in  reality,  God's  ministers,  but  were,  doubtless,  cither  discredited  at  home,  or  whoso 
true  character  was  hid  by  the  cloak  of  the  hypocrite — the  mantle  and  the  surplice — 
who  disgraced  their  profession  by  becomiug  "  kidnappers  "  themselves,  or  in  some  way 
aiding  and  abetting  the  escape  of  fugitive  slaves  from  their  rightful  masters. 


320  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 


CHAPTER   III. 

fN  a  cellar,  not  far  from  Camden  Ferry,  in  the  city  of 
Philadelphia,  lived  Alfred  Orton,  whom  we  will  no  more 
&j&>  call  reverend,  because  he  had  been  latelv  excommuni- 
ts?  cated  from  the  Church  in  Boston,  and  his  place  sup- 
plied by  another  and  a  better  man.  In  this  cellar, 
which  has  since  been  used  as  a  barber's  shop,  the  once 
clergyman,  but  now  blackleg,  lived  in  adultery  with  Fanny, 
the  runaway  slave  of  Mrs.  Shelton.  George  was  a  smart 
fellow,  and,  at  heart,  a  good  boy ;  but  he  found  no  rich 
heiress  in  Philadelphia,  nor  even  a  "  buckra  gentleman" 
who  would  condescend  to  greet  him  in  the  streets  with  even 
a  friendly  shake  of  the  hand.  The  poor  fool  soon  found 
out  that  he  had  been  sadly  deceived ;  and  that  the  black 
man,  all  slave  though  he  be,  is  treated  with  more  considera- 
tion, and  stands  upon  higher  ground  at  the  South  than  at 
the  North.  He  found  no  friend  to  help  him,  and  Alfred 
Orton  left  him  to  shift  for  himself.  This  George  did  right 
well,  and  soon  began  to  lay  up  money ;  for  he  had  been 
raised  about  the  house,  and  knew  all  the  duties  of  an  act- 
ive, experienced  waiter.  He  soon  found  employment,  there- 
fore, in  this  capacity,  at  one  of  the  large  hotels  in  the  city, 
where  he  rendered  great  satisfaction  by  his  faithfulness  and 
diligence  to  business.  Often,  however,  his  heart  yearned 
for  his  home  in  the  South,  and  he  longed  again  to  see  the 
dear  familiar  faces  he  had  left  behind  him  in  a  moment  of 
folly.   And  whenever  any  gentleman  arrived  from  the  South, 


THE    ABOLITTONTST    ANT)    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  321 

how  much  more  attentive  was  he  to  his  wants  than  to  any 
other !     How  well  he  polished  his  boots,  and  how  tenderly 
— almost  reverently — he  placed    them   at  the  door  of   the 
sleeping  stranger,   fresh  from    the   land   of  flowers,   where 
bloom    the   palmetto    and   flourish   the    pine !      And   when 
the  traveler  gathered  up  his  baggage,  and  made  ready  for 
his  departure  to  the  South,  how  often  it  was  upon  his  lips 
to  entreat  the  stranger  to  take  him  back  with  him  as  far 
as  Savannah  or  Charleston,  that  he  might  again  tread  upon 
the  soil,  and  reclaim  the  home  he  had  foolishly  exchanged 
for  one  which  could  never  be  dear  to  his  heart !     How  often 
was  he  ready  to  confess  all,  and  throw  himself  upon  the 
protection  of  a  stranger,  that  he  might  surrender  himself 
to  his  mistress  as  a  runaway  slave,  who  was  already  tired 
of  his  freedom!     But  the  recollection  of  his  sister,  whom 
he  would  be  forced  to  leave  behind  ;  of  Fanny,  whom  he 
knew  was  deluded  and  betrayed,  and  would  likely  be   de- 
serted by  her  seducer,  who  would  fling  her  from  him  with 
disgust,  after  a  brief  season  of  sinful  indulgence.    His  sister, 
and  his  sister  alone,  held  his  spirit  captive,  when  otherwise 
it  would  have  been  free. 

And  poor  Fanny,  before  the  cold  of  November  came,  was 
beginning  to  awake  from  her  delusion  also.  Never  a  carriage 
had  she  rode  in  since  her  arrival ;  and  the  only  parlor  she 
possessed  was  the  dingy  brick  cellar,  which  more  and  more 
seemed  to  her  like  a  dungeon  ;  and  more  and  more  did 
Alfred  Orton  resemble  a  brutal  jailer,  who  renders  more 
miserable,  by  his  cruelty,  his  helpless  captive ;  for  often  he 
returned  to  the  cellar,  reeling  and  staggering  from  the  effects 
of  ardent  spirits,  and  sometimes  he  would  pull  her  ears,  or 
pinch  her  skin,  like  an  inquisitor  executing  the  aufo-da-fe, 
by  applying  the  torture  of  the  pincers  ;  but  more  often  he 
struck  her  blows,  when  the  cards  were  unlucky,  and  his  play 
had  been  unsuccessful ;  for  Alfred  Orton  not  only  drank 
now,  but  he  had  learned  to  gamble  also  ;  gambled  well  and 
better  than  many  of  the  old  experienced  hands  who  had 
14* 


322  OLD   TONEY    AND    HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

taught  him  the  tricks  and  deceptions  which  they  had  long 
practiced.  The  quondam  Yankee  preacher  had  invented 
new  tricks — could  beat  everybody  at  "  old  sledge,"  and 
"  out-general  even  the  Philadelphia  blacklegs."  If  they 
had  taught  him  how  to  win  the  "  odd  trick,"  he  had  taught 
himself  to  win  the  odder. 

It  was  when  in  the  full  tide  of  success  as  a  gambler,  that 
a  gentleman  from  Boston,  while  standing  at  the  Exchange, 
saw  Alfred  Orton  passing  by  in  a  fit  of  intoxication,  reel- 
ing from  side  to  side  of  that  wide  stone  pavement.  He  fol- 
lowed him  at  a  distance,  and  saw  him  enter  the  cellar,  which, 
we  believe,  is  even  now  used  as  a  barber  shop.  He  made 
inquiries  into  the  habits  and  pursuits  of  the  quondam 
preacher,  and,  on  returning  to  Boston,  made  known  the 
result  of  his  inquiries.  Mrs.  Orton  had  been  mourning 
the  sudden  departure  of  her  husband,  from  whom  she  had 
not  heard  nor  received  a  line  since  that  memorable  morn- 
ing when,  in  a  fit  of  passion,  he  had  put  little  Johnny's 
eye  out.  Woman-like,  her  heart  still  yearned  toward  the 
man  who  was  the  father  of  her  children ;  and,  in  her 
heart,  she  made  many  excuses  for  the  irregularities  of  his 
conduct.  In  proportion  as  he  had  been  reproached  by 
others,  she  had  clung  to  him,  in  his  absence,  with  all  the 
tenacity  of  a  true  wife ;  and  over  his  faults,  now  so  widely 
known,  she  had  flung  the  thick  vail  of  a  woman's  love.  The 
world  might  see  huge  scars  and  corroding  ulcers,  but  the 
faithful  wife,  if  she  had  indeed  caught  a  glimpse  of  them 
with  her  own  eyes,  just  for  a  single  moment,  with  a  shud- 
der and  with  her  head  turned  away,  she  had  flung  a  cloth 
over  the  scar  and  the  ulcer,  and  saw  them  now  no  more. 
Like  Shem  and  Japheth,  walking  backward  with  a  garment 
upon  their  shoulders,  to  cover  their  father's  nakedness,  and, 
with  reverential  pity,  to  hide  the  drunkenness  of  their 
venerable  parent  from  the  eyes  of  another,  so  now  Mrs. 
Orton  sought  to  hide  the  faults  and  defend  the  character 
of  the  man  who   had   deserted  her,  and  for  whose   return 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-riRATE.  323 

she  was  ever  looking  with  a  sorrowing  heart  and  tearful 
eyes. 

It  was  while  the  tears  were  chasing  each  other  rapidly 
down  her  cheeks  one  day,  that  Margaret  said  to  her  mis- 
tress, by  way  of  comforting  her  in  her  distress  : 

"  An'  shure  an'  if  I  was  the  misthress,  I  would  n't  be 
waping  for  that  bad  man,  Misther  Orton  ;  for  I  hear  he  has 
a  new  wife — a  mulatto  nagcr,  that  he  shtole  from  the  South, 
and  is  kaping  her  in  Philadelfy." 

"  Who  told  you  such  a  falsehood  concerning  my  husband, 
Margaret?"  asked  Mrs.  Orton  of  the  Irish  girl,  in  tones 
half  tremulous  with  alarm,  half  filled  with  indignation. 

"  An'  shure  an'  I  got  it  from  Misther  Williams,  who  seen 
him  dhrunk  as  a  coot  in  the  streets  of  Philadelfy,  and  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  dark  hole  where  he  hides  the  yaller  birdie 
which  he  shtole  from  her  roost  in  the  far  South,  (bad  cess 
to  him !)  and  kapes  her  in  a  dark  cellar,  like  a  poor  canary 
in  its  cacre." 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Orton.  "It  is 
a  malicious  lie  !  " 

But  her  eye  did  not  flash  fire,  for  she  knew  Mr.  Williams 
well ;  and  she  felt  that  if  he  had  indeed  said  so,  it  must  be, 
at  least,  half  true,  unless  he  was  mistaken  ;  for  the  well- 
known  character  of  Mr.  Williams  was  proverbial  for  veracity, 
and  forbade  any  doubt.  With  trembling  footsteps,  there- 
fore, she  went  to  his  house,  and,  with  a  light  touch,  rapped 
at  the  door;  letting  fall  the  brass  knocker  ever  so  lightly, 
as  if  she  feared  lest  her  summons  should  be  heard  too  soon, 
and  all  her  secret  fears  be  confirmed.  Poor,  forsaken  wife  ! 
Poor — worse  than  orphan — children,  abandoned  by  your 
wicked  father ! 

When  Mrs.  Orton  heard  from  the  lips  of  the  benevo- 
lent-hearted Mr.  Williams,  who  disliked  exceedingly  to  tell 
all  the  truth,  but  who,  when  urged  to  reveal  the  worst; 
frankly  declared  his  belief  that  Alfred  Orton  was  no  more 
worthy  to  occupy  a  place  in  the  shrine  of  a  true  woman's 


324  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  ]    OR, 

heart — when  he  told  her  that  he  was  not  only  a  drunkard 
now,  but  a  gambler  also  ;  and,  worse  than  all,  that  he  was 
indeed  living  in  adultery  with  a  mulatto  girl,  whom  he  had 
already  begun  to  ill-treat  and  abuse,  then  her  cup  of  bit- 
terness was  full !  But  Mrs.  Orton  turned  away  with  a  firmer 
tread,  and  went  away  with  more  rapid  footsteps  than  she 
came  ;  with  no  more  a  tremor  upon  her  lips,  nor  anxiety 
in  her  countenance,  nor  a  painful  look  of  suspense  and 
anxious  fear.  Before,  she  had  been  as  the  trembling,  anxious 
Mary,  seeking  for  her  Lord,  and  knowing  not  where  they 
had  lain  him ;  now,  she  was  the  Nemesis  of  Grecian  myth- 
ology, the  fierce  goddess  of  retribution,  and  the  avenger  of 
her  own  wrongs.  She  returned  to  her  home,  and  bade  Mar- 
garet take  care  of  her  children,  during  her  absence,  for  only 
a  brief  season.  Then,  arming  herself  with  a  pistol,  she 
started  for  the  ancient  city  of  "  Brotherly  Love,"  with  any 
other  feeling  than  love  in  her  heart.  For  love  can  become 
extinguished  by  the  flames  of  hatred  ;  but,  in  the  heart  of 
a  loving  wife,  the  conflagration  can  only  rage  in  all  its  fury 
when  her  tears  have  all  dried  up,  and  the  fountain  of  her 
love  has  been  licked  dry  by  the  flames  of  revengeful  pas- 
sion. 

It  was  a  cold,  cloudy  day  on  the  tenth  of  October,  that 
Mrs.  Orton  arrived  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia.  Thick,  dark 
clouds  were  flying  overhead,  but  the  wind  was  blowing  too 
strong  and  it  was  too  cold  for  rain.  But  as  night  approached, 
some  few  flakes  of  snow  fell,  and  then  the  cutting  sleet  began 
to  drive  against  the  faces  of  the  street  passengers  like  so 
many  pointless  needles,  driven  with  force  from  an  old  blun- 
derbuss fired  from  the  clouds — blistering  but  not  punctur- 
ing the  tender  skin. 

But  while  others  muffled  up  their  faces  closer,  and  hurried 
on  faster,  Mrs.  Orton  heeded  not  the  storm,  nor  was  chilled 
by  the  sleet ;  for  there  was  a  fiercer  storm  in  her  heart — a 
fire  in  her  breast,  which  the  frozen  rain  could  not  extin- 
guish, and  which  only  her  own  or  her  husband's  blood  could 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  325 

cool  with  a  kiss,  as  the  last  remains  of  her  love  would  thus 
be  made  to  seethe  out  from  the  heart. 

On  that  cold  day,  Alfred  Orton  did  not  go  out,  but  sat 
by  the  stove,  perfectly  sober,  and  with  all  his  senses  about 
him.  Fanny  was  seated  in  his  lap,  with  her  arms  hugged 
close  around  his  neck,  and  her  head  upon  his  shoulder, 
weeping  tears  of  joy  at  the  prospect  of  returning  happi- 
ness. Orton  was  attempting  to  soothe  her  by  promises 
of  better  treatment  and  more  steady  habits ;  for  he  had 
began  to  think  that  liquor  did  not  agree  with  him,  and 
interfered  much  in  his  success  in  gambling.  It  was  just 
then,  when  the  guilty  couple  were  thus  engaged  in  mutual 
acts  of  endearment,  that  the  form  of  a  woman  darkened  the 
cellar  door.  She  looked  upon  the  revolting  spectacle  before 
her  for  a  moment  only ;  then  placed  her  hand  upon  the  pis- 
tol lying  like  a  cold  block  of  ice  upon  her  hot  bosom ;  but 
all  its  coldness  could  not  cool  the  flames  of  her  revengeful 
and  insane  heart.  The  pistol  was  already  cocked,  and  easy 
upon  trigger — too  easy,  alas  !  for  her ;  for,  as  she  attempted 
to  draw  it  from  her  bosom,  it  went  off  with  a  startling  report, 
so  loud  that  the  guilty  couple  started,  almost  at  the  same 
time,  to  their  feet.  Mrs.  Orton  stood  still  for  a  few  seconds, 
then  fell  backward,  with  a  groan — baffled  by  her  own  haste, 
and  thwarted  by  her  own  hand  of  her  vengeance. 

Alfred  Orton  fled  with  terror  from  his  dead  wife,  like  a 
man  suddenly  awoke  from  a  trance  by  the  claw  of  the  hyena 
which  has  ripped  open  his  grave  and  torn  away  his  winding 
sheet,  fleeing  with  the  haste  of  terror,  and  never  once  look- 
ing back  to  see  the  beast  which  has  clawed  him  from  his 
grave.  And  Fanny  fled  also  ;  but  whither  could  she  flee  ? 
There  was  no  hiding  hole  in  whose  covert  she  could  take 
shelter  from  the  oflicers,  who  were,  doubtless,  already  ex- 
amining the  corpse,  and  forming  their  conclusions  as  to  who 
was  the  murderer.  But  the  pistol  clasped  in  her  hand  with 
the  rigid  grasp  of  death,  foreshadowed  a  mystery  of  false 
vows  and  wounded  affections;  and  a  coroner  was  called  in 


326  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

and  a  jury  summoned,  whose  verdict  was  that  the  "deceased 
came  to  her  death  in  some  mysterious  way  unknown  to  them 
— perhaps  by  her  own  hand — perhaps  by  the  hand  of  one 
Alfred  Orton." 

The  cold  had  increased  in  severity,  and  the  sleet  was  rat- 
tling like  hail  against  the  windows,  and  sheeting  the  pave- 
ment with  ice,  which  would  shine  like  a  mirror  when  the 
sun  rose  on  the  morrow.  But  before  that  sun  would  rise 
in  the  east,  or  those  sleety  clouds  flee  away,  how  many  of 
the  poor  may  be  frozen  stiff,  and,  like  an  icicle,  snapped  off 
from  the  tree  of  life  by  the  rough  hand  of  death.  And 
Fanny  wandered  through  the  deserted  streets,  cold  and 
shivering,  almost  barefooted,  without  a  shoe,  and  only  her 
stockings  upon  her  feet,  and  without  a  shawl  upon  her 
shoulders ;  for,  in  her  terrified  haste,  she  had  left  them  in 
the  cellar  where  Mrs.  Orton  lay  weltering  in  her  blood. 
And  Fanny  grew  weary,  and  felt  like  lying  down  to  sleep 
forever.  Then  she  turned  into  the  portico  of  a  church,  and 
lay  down  to  rest  beneath  its  friendly  shelter  from  the  pelt- 
ing of  the  storm,  which  still  drove  the  sleet,  with  pitiless 
spite,  against  her.  But  she  could  not  sleep  ;  for  now  there 
was  a  fiercer  woe  to  come  upon  her  than  the  cold  and  the 
sleet;  for  she  had  begun  to  feel  the  pains  and  the  throes 
of  a  woman  in  labor  with  her  first  child. 

"All  night,"  said  the  watchmen,  "we  thought,  as  each 
one  took  his  round,  that  we  heard  the  moans,  and  some- 
times we  could  hear,  through  the  raging  storm,  as  it  lulled 
for  a  moment,  the  faint  shrieks  of  a  woman  as  if  in  distress. 
And  when  we  listened  again,  we  heard  the  wind  only  whis- 
tling under  the  door-way,  and  rolling  up  the  broad  aisles 
of  the  old  church ;  and  when  the  wind  blew  louder  still,  and 
drowned  the  moans  and  the  shrieks,  we  hurried  on  with 
superstitious  fright,  thinking  it  was  the  wailing  of  a  ghost 
from  the  church-yard,  singing  her  ghost-song  in  unison  with 
the  storm." 

When  the  morning  dawned,  they  found  Fanny,  frozen  to 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  327 

death,  and  her  still-born  child  lying  doubled  up  upon  the 
cold,  ice-covered  pavement  of  the  portico  of  the  temple- 
doubled  up  as  it  had  come  into  the  world. 

And  George  heard  of  the  death  of  his  sister,  and  know- 
ing better  than  any  other  all  the  circumstances  of  the  sad 
case,  resolved  to  wreak  his  revenge  upon  her  betrayer,  who 
had  kidnapped  her  by  his  wicked  lies  and  false  pretenses. 
Look  to  yourself,  Alfred  Orton  !  for  the  avenger  of  blood 
is  at  your  heels,  and  woe  unto  you  if  you  shall  find  no  city 
of  refuge  ! 


328  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 


CHAPTER   IV. 

UST  two  weeks  after  the  death  of  Fanny  and  of  Mrs. 
Orton — that  ill-fated  wife  and  mother — Alfred  Orton 
rode  up  to  the  door  of  honest  "Timothy,"  whom  the 

reader  doubtless  remembers  as  Timothy ,  but  whose 

surname  we  promised  never  to  mention  again.  Timothy 
received  him  kindly,  glad  to  entertain,  beneath  his  humble 
roof,  the  "smart  preacher  from  Boston."  Alfred  Orton 
accompanied  his  host  to  the  stable,  and  as  he  put  his  horse 
carefully  away,  although  a  very  different  animal  from  the 
one  he  had  rode  upon  his  previous  visit,  he  requested  Tim- 
othy not  ta  say  anything  to  the  neighbors  about  his  coming, 
at  least  for  several  days — until  he  had  rested  a  little,  and 
then  he  would  take  them  all  by  surprise,  and  play  them 
such  a  Yankee  trick  as  would  make  them  weep  and  laugh 
at  the  same  time.  Ah,  Mr.  Orton !  your  words  were  likely 
to  be  verified ;  for  while  some  might  laugh,  others  would 
weep  tears  of  blood  at  your  second  appearance  among  them. 
It  is  strange  what  a  hankering  a  rogue  has  after  the  old 
spot  where  he  has  been  most  successful  in  his  villainies, 
but  where  his  chance  for  detection  is  so  much  greater  than 
elsewhere.  It  may  be  explained  only  upon  the  doctrine, 
"Be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out."  For,  like  the  poor, 
senseless,  but  miscalled  cunning,  rabbit,  which  strives  to  get 
in  at  the  same  hole  where  it  has  been  accustomed  to  enter 
the  jrarden,  and  crnaws  at  the  rail  or  scratches  in  the  dirt 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  329 

until  it  has  been  caught  in  the  snare  formed  by  the  more 
cunning  gardener,  so,  too,  the  thief  and  the  villain  whom 
God  would  bring  into  judgment,  creeps  once  too  often, 
like  the  fox  into  the  hen-roost,  and  is  at  last  caught  in  a 
snare. 

When  the  afternoon  came,  Alfred  Orton  strolled  away  on 
foot,  saying  to  his  host,  Timothy,  that  he  would  walk  into 
the  woods  and  gather  a  few  roots  of  wild  flowers  he  had 
seen  bloom  in  the  spring,  when  last  in  the  settlement,  which 
he  wished  "to  transplant  in  his  hot-house  at  the  North." 
He  took  a  hoe  with  him,  but  he  did  not  go  far  with  it 
before  he  hid  it  away  among  the  bushes.  The  direction  he 
took  was  rather  obliquely,  but  he  soon  veered  his  course 
sufficiently  to  come  up  to  the  back  part  of  Mrs.  Shelton's 
residence.  On  his  way  thither,  and  often  before,  he  had 
said  to  himself:  "Fool  that  I  was,  to  be  so  easily  scared 
away,  when,  by  a  little  ingenuity,  I  might  easily  have  caught 
my  lady-bird.  Perhaps  she  may  not  be  so  easy  to  be  caught 
in  a  trap,  but  there  is  never  a  bird  sailing  aloft  in  the  air, 
which  may  not  be  brought  down  upon  the  wing  by  a  good 
bow  and  a  skillful  hand.  Ella  Shelton,  you  scorned  me 
once,  but  see,  if  once  in  my  power,  you  w7ill  scorn  me 
then." 

He  seated  himself  upon  a  log  behind  a  trv.Q  just  back  of 
the  vegetable  garden,  not  far  from  the  grave  of  little  Ella, 
where  he  knew  Miss  Shelton  came  every  day  to  kneel  down 
there  and  pray  to  her  God.  It  was  her  sanctuary,  and  a 
beautiful  and  a  holy  spot  it  was;  and  the  shrubs  and  the 
flowers  which  she  had  planted  with  her  own  hands,  and; 
then  watered  with  her  tears,  had  grown  rapidly,  so  that) 
they  formed  now  a  green  wall  around  the  grave,  and  could 
hide  so  completely  the  form  of  the  devoted  girl  as  she 
kuelt  in  prayer,  that  none  without  could  see  her  or  know 
that  she  was  within  the  sacred  inelosure. 

The  sun  had  sunk  in  the  west,  and  twilight  was  at  hand, 
when  Ella  Shelton  entered  the  little  doorway,  which  could  ad- 


330  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

mit  but  a  single  person  at  a  time  into  the  evergreen  mclosure 
formed  by  a  hedge  of  cedars  and  wild  olive.  Alfred  Orton 
cautiously  rose  from  his  hiding-place,  and  taking  his  long 
black  cloak  in  his  hand,  stepped  through  the  doorway,  that 
the  kneeling  girl  did  not  hear  his  stealthy,  cat-like  ap- 
proach. Without  uttering  a  sound  of  warning,  he  threw  his 
cloak  over  her  head,  and  bore  her  away  in  his  arms,  deep 
into  the  dark  forest,  as  though  she  had  been  an  infant 
carried  in  the  strong  arms  of  its  mother.  It  was  in  vain 
that  the  poor  girl  struggled  to  free  her  arms,  which  were 
held  down  by  his  own,  as  if  pinioned  to  her  side.  It  was 
in  vain  that  she  attempted  to  scream  for  help,  for  her 
voice  was  smothered  under  the  thick  folds  of  his  cloak,  and 
sounded  strange  to  herself,  and  hollow  as  the  voice  of  one 
far  under  ground,  like  the  echo  of  a  voice  from  a  tomb  ! 
By  and  by,  as  they  went  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  forest, 
and  farther  and  farther  from  the  house,  she  heard  and 
knew  at  once  the  voice  of  Alfred  Orton,  telling  her  not  to 
be  alarmed,  that  no  harm  was  intended  her,  that  she  was  in 
the  arms  of  one  who  loved  her  to  madness.  That  voice  ! 
she  remembered  it  well ;  and  the  consciousness  that  she  was 
powerless  in  the  grasp  of  a  libertine,  a  Yankee  scoundrel, 
whom  she  had  suspected  of  evil  intentions  from  her  very 
first  interview  with  him !  0 !  how  her  heart  ached,  and  her 
brain  whirled  !  How  the  blood  rushed  through  her  veins, 
until  they  seemed  to  be  on  fire ! 

When  Alfred  Orton  thought  he  was  safe  from  interrup- 
tion in  his  hellish  designs,  he  put  down  his  precious  burden, 
and  drew  off  the  cloak  whose  folds  had  enveloped  her  per- 
son. But  when  the  wretch  placed  her  upon  her  feet,  and 
before  he  could  speak  a  word  of  endearment,  or  utter  her 
name  in  a  soothing  voice,  as  he  had  at  first  intended,  he 
felt  her  finger-nails  driven  into  his  flesh,  and  plowing  deep 
furrows  into  his  face,  and  knew,  by  the  fierceness  of  her 
looks,  and  the  wild  screams  of  frenzy  which  she  uttered, 
that  the  beautiful  woman,  who  was  fighting  like  an  enraged 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  331 

tigress,  was  mad  !  mad  ! !  *  Then  Alfred  Orton  fled  with 
terror  from  the  maniac,  and  the  poor  girl,  thus  suddenly 
bereft  of  her  reason,  ran  after  him,  crying,  at  the  top  of  her 
voice,  which  rang  through  the  dark  forest,  and  sounded  in 
the  distance  rather  like  the  screech  of  the  night-hawk,  than 
a  human  voice.  "Orson!  Orson!"  she  cried  after  him  as 
thay  ran.  "Ha!  ha!  ha!  Orson  is  whipped  by  the  she- 
bear  !  Orson  is  afraid  of  the  she-bear's  claws  !  "  The  poor 
girl  had  read  some  romance,  when  a  little  child,  about 
"  Orson  and  his  bear,"  and  she  called,  in  her  insanity,  Mr. 
Orton  "  Orson."  When  Alfred  Orton  returned  to  the  house 
of  Timothy,  his  clothes  were  all  torn  by  the  bushes,  and, 
in  his  terror,  he  had  left  his  cloak  behind  him ;  a  fatal 
proof  it  would  be  of  his  guilt  he  knew,  but  he  resolved  to 
flee  from  that  neighborhood  by  break  of  day.  When  asked 
by  Timothy  why  his  clothes  were  so  disordered,  and  his 
face  so  scratched,  his  reply  was,  that  he  believed  he  had 
had  a  battle  with  a  she-bear,  and  had  narrowly  escaped  witli 
his  life.  Timothy  believed  the  "parson,"  but  he  thought 
she  must  have  been  a  very  merciful  or  a  very  weak  bear,  to 
have  let  him  off  so  easily,  and  not  ripped  open  his  abdomen 
once  she  had  placed  her  clnws  in  anger  upon  him. 

"Either  so,"  thought  Timothy,  "or  the  parson  is  a 
smarter  man  than  any  one  in  these  parts." 

It  was  late  in  the  night,  past  midnight,  before  Ella  Shel- 
ton was  found,  a  mile  or  more  from  the  house,  lying  upon 
the  frost-covered  ground,  moaning  most  piteously,  and  almost 
frozen  with  the  cold.  Mrs.  Shelton  was  herself  almost 
distracted,  almost  crazy,  at  the  sudden  and  mysterious  dis- 
appearance of  her  daughter.  The  whole  house  and  yard 
had  turned  out  with  torches  to  seek  the  lost  one ;  and  Mrs. 
Shelton,  holding  hard  to  Old  Toney's  hand,  was  led  rather 
than    followed  by   the    faithful    old    slave.      The    anxious 

-This  is  not,  by  auy  means,  a  fancy  sketch,  not  a  creation  of  the  author,  but  a 
melancholy  reality,  which  occurred  a  few  years  since  in  one  of  our  Cotton  States. 
A  horrible  fact,  but  the  author  hopes  that  the  parties  will  not  be  even  suspected. 


332  OLD    TONET   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

mother,  whose  eyes  were  sharpened  by  her  love  and  anxiety, 
was  the  first  to  discover  her  daughter,  and  to  hear  her 
piteous  moans.    She  ran  forward  eagerly,  and  cried  joyously : 

"  0 !  my  child  !  I  am  so  glad  to  find  you !  How  could 
you  stray  so  far  into  the  forest  and  get  lost?" 

"  I  am  not  lost,  mother,"  replied  Ella,  "but  it  is  lost." 

"What  have  you  lost,  my  child?"  said  Mrs.  Shelton, 
anxiously,  when  she  observed  the  strangeness  of  her  daugh- 
ter's look,  and  wondered  what  was  the  matter. 

"  My  poor  cub,  mother ;  I  can  not  find  it !  Orson  and 
the  bear  had  a  great  battle  !  /  am  the  she-bear  ;  but  Orson 
fled  from  me  like  a  base  coward  !  I  scratched  up  his  face 
terribly,  but  he  has  carried  off  my  poor  pet  cub  ! "  And 
she  resumed  her  moaning ;  striving  to  imitate  the  moans 
of  a  bear  whose  cubs  have  been  killed  by  the  rifle-ball  of 
the  hunter. 

Mrs.  Shelton  looked  up  at  Old  Toney  with  clasped  hands 
and  an  imploring  countenance,  and,  in  a  beseeching  tone, 
begged  the  old  negro  to  tell  her  what  was  the  matter  with 
her  child. 

"  Gone  daft,  missis,  gone  daft  from  de  cold  ! " 

Mrs.  Shelton  answered  not  a  word,  but  her  head  drooped 
slowly  down  upon  her  bosom,  and  she  tried  to  say,  "  God's 
will  be  done  ! "  but  she  could  not  articulate  the  words,  for 
each  syllable  that  she  attempted  to  utter  sounded  like  a 
hiccup,  which  prevented  her  from  giving  utterance  to  the 
prayer  of  her  lips,  for  the  Christian  finds  it  hard  sometimes 
to  say,  "  Gods  will  he  done  /"  Poor,  grief-smitten  woman, 
her  husband  dead,  her  son's  mysterious  disappearance,  and 
now  to  see  her  daughter  thus !  Better,  far  better,  she 
thought,  that  her  "  dear  Ella,  had  died  suddenly,  than  thus 
to  be  bereft  of  her  reason,  and  bereft  in  such  a  way  !  0, 
God!   by  whom,  and  how!" 

With  his  arms  folded  upon  his  breast,  Old  Toney  stood 
by  in  sorrowful  silence,  without  attempting  to  utter  a  word 
of  sympathy,  when  he  knew  sympathy  would  be  unavailing. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  333 

The  old  man's  heart  was  too  full  for  words,  and  he  felt  that 
his  own  soul  needed  comfort.  He  seemed  like  one  stunned 
by  a  blow  which  had  confused  and  bewildered  his  senses. 
In  his  great  love  and  pity  for  his  mistress,  he  felt  that  he 
could  willingly  give  up  everything,  wife  and  children,  and 
life  itself,  to  restore  to  her  reason  that  dear  young  mistress 
whom  he  so  much  loved,  and  upon  whose  approaching 
nuptials  he  had  thought  with  pride  and  pleasure.  But  to 
see  her  thus!  lying  upon  the  cold  ground  and  clawing  the 
dry  leaves,  imagining  that  she  herself,  who  had  ever  been  as 
"timid  as  the  fawn,  and  gentle  as  the  daffodil,"  was  none 
other  than  a  wild  beast!  0!  horrid  thought!  which,  as  it 
grew  in  intensity,  seemed  to  render  the  reality  still  more 
awful ;  and  the  old  man  groaned  in  spirit,  and  shivered  like 
an  aspen. 

As  if  by  design,  though,  in  reality,  only  by  accident,  all 
the  rest  of  Old  Toney's  family  gathered  at  the  same  spot, 
coming  in  from  different  directions ;  and  when  they  looked 
upon  the  countenances  of  Mrs.  Shelton  and  of  Old  Toney, 
and  saw  Miss  Ella  lying  upon  the  ground,  they  were  not 
long  in  coming  to  a  correct  conclusion  in  regard  to  the 
true  situation  of  their  young  mistress.  Old  Rinah  sat  down 
upon  the  dry  leaves  a  little  way  off  from  Mrs.  Shelton,  and 
rocked  her  body  to  and  fro,  resembling  an  old  Indian  squaw 
wailing  the  death  of  her  dead  infant.  Young  Toney  came 
up,  last  of  all,  with  a  torch  in  one  hand,  and  the  cloak  which 
Alfred  Orton  had  dropped  in  his  flight,  in  the  other. 

"Here,  pappy,"  said  he,  "here's  what  I  found  in  de 
woods.     It's  de  cloak  ob  some  strange  buckra." 

Just  then,  Ella  Shelton's  quick  eye,  as  it  glared  round 
upon  them  all,  like  a  wild  beast  glaring  upon  those  who 
have  tracked  it  to  its  den — her  eye,  as  it  fell  upon  the 
cloak,  lighted  up  with  frenzied  joy,  and,  leaping  to  her 
feet,  she  clutched  the  cloak  with  both  her  hands,  exclaim- 
ing, with  passionate  eagerness,  "  Give  it  me  !  It  is  my  poor 
lost  little  cub,  which  Orson  carried  with   him.     Ha!   ha! 


334  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

lia  !  lia  1  ha  !  ha  !  How  scared  the  fellow  was  !  Ha  !  ha  ! 
ha  !  ha  ! — ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  and  she  gathered  up  the  cloak  into 
a  bundle,  and  lay  down  with  it  by  her  side,  thinking,  all 
the  while,  that  she  was  a  she-bear,  and  that  she  had  found 
her  cub  which  had  been  stolen  from  her  by  Orson.  Her 
mother  knew  that  there  was  a  little  book  in  the  library, 
which  she  herself  had  never  read,  about  "  Orson,  or  the 
Wild  Man,"  but  she  never  once  suspected  that  Alfred  Orton 
had  anything  to  do  with  her  daughter's  mental  derangement. 
How  could  she  have  supposed  so,  when  she  knew  that  he 
was  many  hundred  miles  away,  and  supposed  that  he  was 
so  pure  a  man  ? 

We  will  not  weary  the  reader  by  narrating  the  many 
abortive  plans  which  were  tried  to  coax  the  poor,  crazed 
girl  back  to  her  home,  nor  tell  how  they  succeeded  at  last. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that,  after  several  ineffectual  efforts,  they 
induced  her  to  return  home ;  and,  when  she  had  been  put 
to  bed,  and  Old  Toney  felt  that  she  would  be  safe,  during 
his  absence,  in  the  hands  of  Old  Rinah  and  his  daughter 
Lucy,  he  said  to  his  son,  in  a  low,  but  firm  tone — a  tone  of 
resolution  and  danger,  "  Nyung  Toney,  de  man  wot  had  dat 
cloak  mus'  find!      Call  up  Spring  and  old  Towzcrl" 

"  I  tink  so,  too,  pappy.  Whoebber  dat  man  be,  he  hab 
much  to  do  wid  dis  ting,"  was  the  reply  of  his  son,  as  he 
chirped  to  the  dogs,  and  called  them  to  his  side. 

They  were  both  fine,  well-kept  dogs,  and  had  ever  been 
favorites  with  Colonel  Shelton,  who  valued  them  as  much 
for  their  keen  scent  as  for  their  long-windedness.  Spring- 
was  a  full-blooded  blood-hound,  while  Old  Towzer  was  half 
cur,  half  beagle.  They  were  both  not  only  splendid  watch- 
dogs, but  great  hunters  also,  and  would  follow  the  trail  of 
anything  they  were  put  upon,  whether  hot  or  cold ;  ever 
keeping  together,  the  one  leading  forward  the  other  by  the 
keenness  of  his  scent,  while  the  other  would  discover  the 
trail  as  much  by  the  eye  as  the  sense  of  smell.  They  would 
trail  anything,  from  a  rabbit  up  to  a  deer ;  and  would  follow 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  335 

the  track  of  a  man,  whether  white  or  black,  from  morning 
till  night,  and  never  seem  to  tire. 

Old  Toney  and  his  son  saddled  two  of  the  horses,  and 
rode  away  from  the  stable,  followed  by  the  two  dogs,  in  the 
direction  where  their  poor,  crazed  young  mistress  had  been 
found.  They  did  not  ride  briskly,  but  like  men  who  were 
going  to  a  hunting-ground  where  there  was  plenty  of  game, 
and  they  were  sure  of  the  quarry. 

"Let's  go  on  to  where  you  find  de  cloak,  my  son,"  said 
the  old  man,  as  they  stopped,  for  a  moment,  to  look,  with 
sorrow,  upon  the  spot  where  they  had  seen  their  young 
mistress  lay  ;  regarding  it  now  with  the  same  sorrowful  feel- 
ing with  which  they  would  have  looked  upon  her  grave. 

Before  the  dogs  reached  the  place  where  Young  Toney 
had  picked  up  the  cloak  of  Alfred  Orton,  they  were  in  full 
<3ry  on  the  trail  of  the  Abolitionist.  In  less  than  thirty 
minutes,  they  were  at  the  door  of  Timothy,  who  was  sound 
asleep  in  his  bed,  but  started  up  in  amazement  when  he 
heard  the  baying  and  scratching  of  the  dogs  at  his  front 
door.  Old  Toney  and  his  son  alighted  from  their  horses, 
and  hitched  them  to  the  nearest  trees  in  the  yard,  and  en- 
tered the  front  piazza  just  as  Timothy  opened  the  door.  No 
sooner  had  he  done  so,  than  both  the  dogs  rushed  by  him 
and  went  straight  to  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  Alfred 
Orton  wTas  sleeping.  The  Abolitionist  started  up  in  alarm, 
and  sat  trembling  with  terror  in  his  bed,  when  he  heard  the 
low  whining  and  scratching  of  the  two  dogs  at  his  door; 
fn-  his  own  conscience  told  him  that  they  were  Ella  Shel- 
ton's  avengers. 

There  was  no  time  for  explanation,  and  Timothy  asked 
no  questions  of  Old  Toney  or  his  son.  He  wTent  with  them 
to  the  door  of  the  ci-devant  preacher,  and  pulled  the  latch- 
string,  which  hung  outside  ;  for  there  was  no  lock  or  other 
fastening  upon  Orton's  door.  In  a  moment,  the  blood- 
hound sprang  into  the  room,  and,  leaping  upon  the  bed, 
seized  the  terrified  and  guilty  man  upon  the  shoulder,  while 


336  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

Towzer  seized  him  by  the  arm.  Towzer  was  easily  induced, 
by  a  few  kicks  and  cuffs,  to  let  go  his  hold,  but  not  so  with 
the  blood-hound,  who  had  driven  his  teeth  deep  into  the 
deltoid  muscle,  until  they  fairly  met  together.  He  did  not 
pull  nor  tug  at  the  flesh,  as  do  other  dogs,  but  remained 
perfectly  still,  with  his  eyes  fixed  immovably  upon  the  eyes 
of  his  victim,  and  his  teeth  craunched  down  upon  the  muscle. 
It  was  in  vain  that  they  beat  or  coaxed  the  beast  to  let  go 
his  hold  ;  he  would  have  suffered  them  to  kill  him,  sooner 
than  relax  his  hold,  once  he  had  tasted  blood. 

At  length  Timothy's  sympathies  became  so  much  aroused 
in  behalf  of  the  helpless  victim,  that,  in  a  fit  of  desperation, 
he  caught  hold  of  the  hind-legs  of  the  blood-hound  and 
jerked  him  away  with  all  his  force.  It  was  a  sudden  and 
a  violent  jerk,  and  the  result  was  that  the  deltoid  muscle 
was  completely  torn  loose  at  its  insertion,  or  lower  end, 
where  it  tapers  down  to  a  narrow  point,  and  hung  down  in 
long  shreds.  It  was  a  horrid  spectacle,  and  well  calculated 
to  arouse  the  sympathies  of  the  most  obdurate  heart.  It 
did  arouse  greatly  the  sympathies  of  Timothy,  who  called 
his  wife  to  bind  up  the  wound,  and  pour  on  a  little  lauda- 
num and  spirits  of  turpentine. 

As  soon  as  this  kindness  was  rendered  Alfred  Orton, 
Timothy  inquired  of  Old  Toney,  in  an  angry  tone,  why  he 
had  come  out  with  his  dogs,  at  that  time  of  night,  to  dis- 
turb his  repose,  and  endanger  the  life  of  the  "parson  who 
was  lodging  with  him." 

"  Him  no  fit  to  be  a  parson,  Mass'  Tirnoty.  You  know 
ole  Towzer  and  Spring  well,  and  you  know  dey  nebber  lies." 

"  Yes,  old  man,  I  know  that  very  well,"  replied  Timothy, 
who  recalled  to  mind  the  scratched  face  and  disordered  ap- 
parel of  Alfred  Orton,  and  had  been  previously  thinking 
that  something  more  had  happened  than  he  chose  to  reveal. 

"  Well,  Mass'  Tirnoty,"  said  Old  Toney,  "  dish  yer  man, 
who  call  hisself  Orton,  done  a  berry  bad  ting  to-night. 
Like  a  tief,  he  stole  up  to  de  back  part  ob  our  house,  where, 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  337 

you  know,  Miss  Ella  always  go,  ebbery  ebening,  to  pray  at 
de  little  grabe  ob  my  little  gran 'child.  What  happen  dere 
I  do  n't  know ;  but  we  found  Miss  Ella  more  'n  a  mile  from 
our  house,  'way  off  in  de  woods,  lyin'  on  de  cold  ground,  a 
moanin'  so  pitiful  it  would  'a  made  your  berry  heart  cry!" 

At  this  point  of  his  story  the  old  man's  voice  trembled 
so  that  he  could  scarcely  proceed.  The  tears  streamed 
down  the  deep  furrows  of  his  sable  cheeks,  and  young  To- 
ney  also  had  to  wipe  his.  eyes  repeatedly  with  his  coat-sleeve. 

"  We  found  my  nyung  missis  dere,  Mass'  Timoty,  lyin' 
upon  de  ground,  callin'  ob  herself  a  she-bear !  sayin'  dat 
she  had  a  big  fight  wid  a  man  named  Orson,  but  dat  she 
had  scratched  up  his  face  so  dat  he  had  to  run  away;  and 
dat  Orson — who  is  Mr.  Orton — had  stole  her  little  cub ! 
And  when  my  son,  Nyung  Toney  here,  bring  de  cloak  he 
pick  off  a  hawt'orne  bush,  she  snatched  it  from  his  hand, 
and  said  dat  xoas  Iter  own  little  cub !  Gone  daft,  Mass'  Tim- 
oty! gone  daft,  complete!" 

"Crazy!"  said  Timothy,  opening  his  eyes  wide. 

"  Crazy!"  echoed  his  wife,  with  uplifted  hands  and  a  hor- 
rified countenance. 

"  Crazy!"  replied  Old  Toney,  solemnly,  " and  dis  bad 
man  done  it  /" 

There  was  no  longer  a  doubt  in  the  mind  of  any  one 
present  that  Alfred  Orton  was,  indeed,  the  guilty  wretch 
whose  vile  conduct  had  driven  mad  the  lovely  young  lady. 
Where  there  was  love  and  respect  before,  there  was  now 
nothing  but  hatred — deep  and  revengeful  hatred.  A  con- 
sultation was  held  as  to  the  disposition  of  the  man,  whom 
they  now  regarded  as  an  outlaw,  who  had  fallen  prisoner  into 
their  hands. 

"What  you  say  we  mus'  do  wid  de  Yankee  buckra,  Mass' 

Timoty?"  said  Old  Toney,  in  deference  to  the  white  man, 

although,  in  the  community  at  large,  the  old  negro  was  held 

in  much  higher  respect  and  esteem  than  Timothy  himself,  or 

even  most  of  his  white  neighbors  in  his  immediate  vicinity. 
15 


338  OLD    TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

"I  say,  let  us  give  him  a  coat  of  tar  and  feathers!"  re- 
plied Timothy. 

"  Berry  good,  masser,  so  fur  as  ee  go.  What  you  say, 
my  son,  Nyung  Toney?" 

"  I  say,  let  us  duck  'um  in  de  hoss-pond  out  yonder,  till 
ee  dead ! " 

"  Berry  well  ! "  said  the  old  man,  solemnly  as  a  judge 
passing  sentence  on  a  criminal  whom  he  condemns  to  death. 
"  And  /  say,  let 's  lick  'um  to  de't' !  Now,  dere  being  t'ree 
wotes,  all  different,  I  will  hab  to  split  de  difference.  Fus 
and  foremus,  den,  I  will  try  Mass'  Timoty's  plan  ob  de  tar 
and  fedders,  which  do  berry  well  as  far  as  ee  go,  as  I  said ; 
if  Mass'  Timoty  had  den  said,  arter  dat,  \  Set  'um  on  jive ! ' 
Den  I  will  try  my  son,  Nyung  Toney's  plan,  and  duck  'um 
to  de't1  in  de  horse-pond  by  de  road-side ;  and  if  dat  do  n't 
drownded  'um,  he  will  sartin  friz  to  de't'  wid  de  cold!  Den, 
arter  we  done  drownded  'um,  I  mus'  try  my  plan,  and  lick 
'um  to  de't'  like  a  dog,  as  he  desarves  to  be  licked!"* 

The  reader  may  think  there  was  little  chance  for  the  life 
of  Alfred  Orton;  and  Alfred  Orton  thought  so  himself;  for 
he  began  to  shiver  with  fright,  and  to  beg  most  piteously 
for  his  life.  But  to  all  his  entreaties  they  paid  no  more 
attention,  nor  even  half  as  much,  as  they  would  have  done 
to  the  howling  of  a  cur,  but  sat  down  in  silence  by  the  fire, 
waiting  until  the  morning  dawned,  when  they  could  see 
better  to  execute  their  three  separate  modes  of  punishment. 
For  three  long  hours  the  prisoner  sat  awaiting  his  doom, 
as  a  trembling  felon,  who  is  morally  convinced  that  there 
is  no  earthly  chance  for  his  escape  from  the  execution  of 

*The  author  has  been  informed  that,  only  one  year  ago,  a  peddler,  who,  while  sell- 
ing his  wares  to  a  parcel  of  negroes  on  one  of  the  Georgia  plantations,  attempted  to 
tamper  with  them  on  the  subject  of  Abolitionism,  and  went  so  far  as  to  make  them 
certain  murderous  propositions  and  incendiary  appeals,  ivas  actually  seized  hy  the  slaves 
themselves,  stripped  naked,  and  whipped  to  death!  If  true,  it  was  certainly  very  cruel 
in  them  to  push  their  vindictive  punishment  to  such  an  extent.  But  it  was  just  after 
the  Harper's  Ferry  raid;  and  slaves,  as  well  as  slaveholders,  were  very  much  exas- 
perated at  the  murderous  designs  of  fanatical  Abolitionists,  who,  in  that  affair,  made 
the  first  experiment  of  the  doctrine  of  the  "  irrepressible  conflict." 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  339 

the  sentence,  which  will  be  executed  upon  his  person  on  the 
morrow. 

As  soon  as  the  day  dawned,  and  it  became  light  enough 
for  the  accomplishment  of  their  designs,  Alfred  Orton  was 
led  out  into  the  yard,  and  snipped  entirely  naked.     There 
was  a   barrel   full   of  tar  near  the   horse-lot,   and  they  led 
him  up  to  it,     Just  as  they  began  to  apply  the   tar  to  the 
denuded  surface  of  his  body,  George  came  up.    He  had  just 
arrived  from  Philadelphia,  and  had  tracked  the  fugitive  thus 
far,  with  the  unerring  instinct  of  a  blood-hound.     The  ves- 
sel in  which  he  had  sailed  for  Charleston  had  arrived   at 
that  port  just  twenty-four  hours  after  the  one  in  which  Orton 
himself  had  sailed;    and  George  had  no   arrangements   to 
make— no  horse  to  buy ;   and,   on  foot,  could  travel  as  far 
in  the  day  as  a  man  usually  travels  on  horseback. 

As  soon  as  George  recognized  the  features  of  Alfred 
Orton,  he  cried  out  to  his  old  father,  even  before  he  reached 
the  group  : 

"  Kill  'um,  pappy !  kill  'urn  !  for  he  killed  my  titter  Fanny." 

"Killed  your  titter  Fanny!"  exclaimed  Old  Toney,  in 
amazement. 

"Yes,  pappy!  his  h-.u\  treatment  kill'  her!  for  she  friz 
to  deaf  in  Philadelfy,  where  he  carried  us  all  to,  pappy  ! 
Fooled  and  betrayed  us  !  " 

"  You  tell  de  God's  trut',  George?" 

"De  God's  trut',  pappy!" 

Then  George  told  the  whole  story,  or  as  much  of  it  as 
he  knew;  and  as  he  proceeded  in  his  thrilling  narrative, 
his  own  eyes,  and  the  eyes  of  his  old  father,  opened  wider 
and  wider,  until  they  glared  like  fire-balls,  as  if  he  could 
have  eaten  Alfred  Orton  up— like  a  Siberian  wolf  making 
a  meal  of  a  single  man,  and  then  howling  for  more !  more ! 
ever,  more  blood! 

When  George  ended  his  story,  the  old  man  said,  in  a 
lower  voice  than  he  had  yet  spoken,  and  with  a  counten- 
ance which  seemed  a  shade  lighter : 


340  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER  J    OR, 

"  Yes,  my  son  ;  we  mus'  kill  de  varmint.  Mass'  Timo- 
ty,  you  mus'  'mend  your  motion  right  away  'fore  ee  too 
late.  Say,  arter  we  tar  and  fedder  'um,  set  fire  to  'um]  den 
drownded  'um,  den  lick  \um  to  det'\  den,  if  lie  lib  t'roo  all 
dat,  we  mus'  tek'  up  wid  George  four/  proposition ;  den  ive 
mm'  kill  'um,  and  t'roiu  lum  to  de  buzzards  /" 

To  Old  Toney's  proposition  for  an  amendment  to  his  re- 
solution, Timothy  readily  assented  ;  and  the  work  of  "  tar- 
ing and  feathering,"  which  had  been  interrupted  by  George's 
sudden  appearance  and  exclamation,  proceeded  more  -vigor- 
ously. When  this  operation  was  performed,  the  torch  was 
brought  by  George  himself,  who  ran  eagerly  to  the  dwell- 
ing-house to  procure  it.  Just  then  Old  Sampson  came 
riding  by  on  his  bob-tailed  bay-horse.  He  was  going  "  to 
preach  a  funeral "  several  miles  below.  The  venerable  old 
preacher,  seeing  what  was  going  on,  rode  up  in  evident  con- 
sternation, and  cried  out : 

"In  God's  name,  my  bredren,  what  are  you  going  to  do? 
Commit  a  horrid  murder?     What  has  happened?" 

Old  Toney  related  all  the  particulars  of  the  case,  and 
appealed  to  the  old  preacher  of  the  Gospel  if  it  was  not 
right  and  proper,  under  the  circumstances,  that  they  should 
wreak  their  revenge  upon  the  criminal  as  they  had  all  to- 
gether determined. 

"In  God's  name,  I  say  no!  no!  no!  my  dear  brudder 
Toney.  It 's  a  berry  bad  case,  I  know ;  and  dis  man,  whom 
you  hold  a  prisoner  here,  is  a  berry  bad  man,  I  fear.  But 
remember  de  word  ob  de  holy  God,  '  Vengeance  is  mine  ; 
I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord.'  Leave  de  matter  in  de  Lord's 
hands,  and  lie  will  bring  him  into  judgment  fast  enough, 
and  sink  him  deep  enough  into  the  lake  of  fire  and  brim- 
stone /" 

The  old  preacher  spoke  with  even  more  than  his  usual 
solemnity,  and  with  a  peculiarly  thrilling  effect  upon  his 
audience ;  for  he  felt  the  electric  thrill  pervading  his  entire 
frame,  and  he  seemed  as  a  sable  prophet,  not  only  looking 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  341 

into  the  future,  but,  by  tbc  authority  of  Almighty  God, 
pronouncing  the  doom  of  the  wicked  sinner.  His  voice,  his 
manner,  his  words,  produced,  even  upon  the  criminal  him- 
self, a  startling  impression,  that  they  blanched  his  cheeks, 
and  made  his  heart  stand  still  ;  for  he  knew  tliat  he  was  a 
hypocrite,  and  expected  the  doom,  of  the  impostor ! 

"  Well,  brudder  Sampson,  you  knows  best.  I  will  gib 
'urn  up  to  de  Lord  ;  and  if  he  punish  'urn  in  cle  lake  of  fitfe 
and  brimstone,  dat  awful  hell,  dat's  wus'  punishment  dan 
all  on  us  put  togedder  can  do  to  him.  You  can  go  wash 
yourself,  and  put  on  your  clo's,  Mass'  Orton,  and  go  clean 
out  ob  dis  country.  You  in  de  hands  ob  de  Lord  now.  He 
got  you  hard  and  fast ;  for  we  gib  you  up  to  him  to  t'row 
you  in  de  big  lake.  Go,  Mass'  Orton.  De  Lord  got  you 
in  his  hands  now,  and  he  will  t'row  you  in  de  lake !  de 
lake  !  " 

And  the  words  of  the  old  man  rung  in  the  ears  of  the 
wicked  wretch,  and  would  continue  to  ring,  like  an  alarm- 
bell  which  never  ceases  until  the  fire  is  extinguished. 
Wherever  Alfred  Orton  shall  go  in  future,  the  lake  of  fire 
and  brimstone,  already  burning  in  his  heart,  shall  rise  up 
before  his  imagination  like  a  terrible  mirage,  ever  moving 
and  flitting  before  him;  or,  like  an  ignis  fatuus,  which  shall 
at  last  guide  him  over  the  precipice  which  overhangs  the 
lake.  In  his  waking  hours,  and  in  his  dreams,  he  will  see 
that  fiery  lake  boiling  up  as  a  cauldron  ;  and,  in  his  ears, 
shall  forever  ring,  as  a  never-ceasing,  ever-ringing  death- 
bell,  the  words  of  the  old  negro,  "  Vengeance  is  mine ;  I 
will  repay,  saitli  the  Lord." 


342  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 


CHAPTER   V. 

fN  two  days — indeed,  in  one  day  almost — after  the  sad 
occurrences  related  in  the  last  chapter,  the  news,  like 
QjP  all  evil  tidings,  spread  like  wi'd-fire  over  the  country, 
«§>  and  Mrs.  Shelton's  house  became  crowded  from  morn- 
ing till  night  with  anxious  friends  and  relatives,  and 
many  curiously  inquisitive  persons  ;  for,  while  some  came  to 
offer  their  heartfelt  sympathy,  others  were  influenced  only 
by  motives  of  curiosity,  to  learn,  from  the  fountain-head, 
all  the  particulars  of  the  truly*  novel  and  distressing  case. 
Anions:  the  former,  came  Mr.  Thomas  Shelton,  as  the  near- 
est  relative  and  dearest  friend,  to  render  any  service  which 
he  had  a  perfect  right  to  offer. 

There  were  many  indignant  persons  who  offered  to  go 
after  the  villain,  Alfred  Orton,  and  bring  him  back,  that 
he  might  suffer  all  the  terrors  and  pains  of  lynch  law,  or 
be  cast  into  jail  until  the  spring  term  of  court,  to  answer 
to  the  charge  of  abduction  and  attempted  violence  upon  the 
person  of  Miss  Shelton.  But  to  all  these  overtures  and 
offers  of  assistance  in  this  way,  Mr.  Shelton's  reply  was  : 

"  No !  no !  let  the  scamp  go  !  Old  Toney  has  lynched 
him  already  once  too  often.  And  as  regards  any  criminal 
prosecution,  Grod  forbid  that  my  cousin's  name  should  ever 
be  mentioned  in  connection  with  that  of  so  great  a  rascal 
as  Alfred  Orton,  the  Yankee  Abolitionist ! " 

Then,  after  a  pause,  Mr.  Shelton  added  : 

"  Indeed,  gentlemen,  you  are  all  mistaken  about  this  mat- 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  343 

ter ;  and  if  you  are  my  friends,  and  the  friends  of  the  dear 
young  lady,  you  will  oblige  me,  and  her  mother  also,  by 
circulating  it  as  much  as  possible,  that  the  sudden  insanity 
of  my  cousin  Ella  has  been  brought  about  by  some  other 
cause — any  other  than  the  one  which  has  been  so  currently 
reported,  and  which,  alas  !  will  be  too  generally  believed, 
with  many  false  additions  and  exaggerations.  In  all  prob- 
ability, her  insanity  is  the  result  of  sudden  cold,  suppressed 
perspiration,  or  some  inward  disease,  the  character  of  which 
we  can  know  nothing.  Indeed,  there  are  various  causes, 
seemingly  slight,  which  may  give  rise  to  the  most  alarming 
and  unexpected  cases  of  mania.  Ask  the  physicians,  and 
they  will  tell  you  that  what  I  say  is  true." 

Thus  Mr.  Shelton  attempted  to  convince  others,  and  even 
himself,  if  possible,  that  Alfred  Orton  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  matter;  for  his  family  pride  revolted  at  the  idea 
of  having  the  name  of  any  of  his  family  coupled  with  that 
of  such  a  wretch,  as  he  in  his  heart  regarded  the  guilty 
man  who  had  been  the  sole  cause  of  blasting  the  intellect 
of  one  of  the  fairest  and  loveliest  of  God's  creatures.  But 
when  one  of  the  simple  neighbors,  who  was  unconvinced 
by  the  speciousness  of  the  arguments,  nor  could  understand 
the  refined  delicacy  of  Mr.  Shelton,  replied,  in  the  simpli- 
city of  his  nature  :  "  But,  'squire,  the  cloak  !  the  cloak  ! 
what  will  you  say  about  the  cloak?"  then  Mr.  Shelton 
replied:  "Well,  the  cloak  is  indeed  a  mystery;  but,  like 
other  mysteries,  it  may  be  a  very  simple  affair,  after  all." 

And  Mr.  Shelton  turned  upon  his  heel  and  went  away ; 
but  when  alone,  he  ground  his  teeth  together,  and  clinched 
his  hands,  and  said,  in  a  low,  suppressed  voice,  while  his 
breathing  became  hard,  almost  painful :  "  Yes,  the  cloak  is 
a  damning  proof  of  Orton's  guilt.  Would  that  it  were  in 
the  lake  of  perdition  with  him  also." 

This  was  a  very  harsh  remark  for  Mr.  Thomas  Shelton  to 
make ;  but  he  was  greatly  excited.  He  felt  conscience- 
smitten  in  a  moment,  and  went  out  into  the  yard,  where  no 


344  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

one  could  see  him  but  God  alone,  and  smote  upon  his  breast, 
exclaiming  :  "  God  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner.  Nay,  nay, 
my  God ;  let  me  take  that  back ;  for,  0,  God  !  I  would  not 
pray  for  the  damnation  of  Orton,  but  rather  his  salvation ! 
Save  him,  0,  my  God,  from  the  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone, 
and  the  gnawing  of  the  worm  that  never  dies  ! " 

But  while  speaking  of  others,  we  must  not  forget  to  men- 
tion the  dear  young  friend  of  Ella  Shelton,  the  poor  blind 
girl,  Fetie,  who  came  over  the  next  morning,  and  when  she 
was  repulsed  and  driven  away  from  the  room  by  her  who, 
before  her  mental  derangement,  had  ever  welcomed  her  com- 
ing with  so  much  gladness,  and  embraced  her  with  so  much 
affection ;  when  she  saw  her  dear  friend  striving  to  imitate 
the  actions  of  a  savage  she-bear,  repelling  the  approach  of 
strangers,  lest  they  should  take  away  her  cub ;  0  !  then 
poor  Fetie's  heart  seemed  broken  and  torn  into  shreds,  as 
Mrs.  Shelton's,  and  she  wandered  over  the  house  alone, 
wringing  her  hands  in  silence,  or  clasping  them  with  pas- 
sionate grief  upon  her  aching  breast,  praying  that  she  might 
die,  and  that  her  friend  might  die  also,  and  both  be  laid 
away  at  rest  in  some  friendly  tomb.  And  once,  when,  in 
passing  by  Ella's  harp,  which  had  been  hung  with  even 
deeper  mourning  than  it  had  ever  been  before,  and  vailed 
by  some  friendly  hand  with  a  dark  shroud,  for  its  voice  was 
dead,  like  the  song  of  its  mistress,  whose  soul  seemed  to 
have  fled  forever  from  her  body,  leaving  it  animated  only 
by  a  corporeal  and  not  spiritual  existence ;  once,  I  say, 
when  Fetie,  in  her  wanderings  over  the  house,  struck  her 
knee  or  her  foot,  by  accident,  against  the  harp-strings, 
which  vibrated  and  resounded  with  harsh  and  confused 
echoes  from  the  unconscious  blow,  the  blind  girl  started 
backward  in  alarm,  and  stood  trembling  and  as  scared  as  if 
she  had  heard  the  grumbling  of  a  ghost  whose  bones  had 
been  disturbed  and  made  to  rattle  in  the  grave.  For  that 
harp,  if  it  were  struck  never  so  lightly  now,  would  sound 
as  harshly  to  her  acute  sensibilities  as  it  sounded  then — as 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LANE -PIRATE.  345 

harshly  as  would  the  skeleton  of  a  man  hung  in  chains  and 
blown  by  the  wind  when  it  is  thus  suspended  from  a  gib- 
bet— when  the  rattling  of  those  chains  and  those  bones 
become  painfully  distinct  to  the  ears  of  the  wife,  or  the 
child  who  has  loved  the  criminal,  condemned  justly,  it  may 
be,  but  condemned  to  a  most  ignominious  and  revolting 
death. 

Ah  !  that  harp  has  been  touched  full  many  a  time  by  the 
hand  of  a  superior  being,  and  its  strings  have  been  breathed 
upon  by  the  spirit  of  inspiration,  and  the  impromptu  whis- 
perings of  the  genius  of  poesy  and  song;  but  by  the  hand 
of  Fetie,  at  least,  that  harp  shall  never  more  be  touched ; 
when  she  sings  again,  it  will  be  a  new  song;  and  when  she 
plays  again,  it  shall  be  upon  a  golden  harp,  in  unison  with 
those  other  harps  and  cymbals  which  accompany  "  the  song 
of  Moses  and  the  Lamb."  But  as  long  as  she  lives  upon 
earth,  she  will  sing  of  the  flowers  no  more,  and  weave  no  more 
chaplets  for  her  hair.  For,  as  the  Israelites  "  hung  their 
harps  upon  the  willows"  in  the  Babylonish  captivity,  and, 
because  of  their  mourning,  could  no  more  sing  "  one  of  the 
songs  they  used  to  sing,"  so,  also,  the  harp  of  Ella  Shelton 
was  hung  in  mourning  now,  and  there  was  nowhere  a  joy- 
ous hand  to  awake  its  thrilling  echoes.  The  sjnrit  of  the 
harp  was  dead,  and  none  but  the  omnipotence  of  Jehovah 
could  bring  it  back  to  life  again. 

But  if  Fetie  was  greatly  overpowered  at  first,  and  if  her 
grief  seemed  almost  insupportable,  like  a  little  Christian,  as 
she  was,  she  strove  to  suppress  it  for  Mrs.  Shelton's  sake, 
that  she  might  comfort,  as  much  a  spossible,  the  poor,  deso- 
late mother,  who  seemed  so  suddenly  bereft  of  her  only  and 
her  darling  child.  And  as  Mrs.  Shelton  talked  to  Fetie 
about  her  poor  dear  Ella ;  as  she  recalled  to  mind  her  many 
excellent  qualities  of  head  and  heart,  and  as  she  pitied  poor 
Herbert,  as  yet  ignorant  of  the  great  calamity  which  would 
overwhelm  his  soul  with  anguish,  and  tried  to  pray  for  him, 
that  he  mi2;ht  be  held  up  by  the  Almighty  Hand,  and  not 
15* 


346  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

be  crushed  completely  by  the  heart-stunning  blow,  Fetie'a 
cheeks  were  wet  with  a  broad  stream  of  bitter  tears,  for  her 
eyes  could  weep  if  they  could  not  see. 

But  not  so  with  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Shelton;  for  the  foun- 
tain of  her  tears  could  not  flow.  For  a  great  stone  had  been 
rolled  upon  it,  and  its  mouth  was  closed  up  by  the  stone,  and 
the  stone  which  closed  it  was  grief.  And  as  Fetie  listened 
to  her  voice,  the  grief-stricken  mother  seemed  to  be  weep- 
ing, though  her  eyes  were  dry ;  for  her  lip  quivered  and  her 
voice  was  tremulous ;  and  then  it  sounded  like  low  wailing ; 
and  any  one  who  saw  not  her  face,  would  have  declared  that 
the  bereaved  Mrs.  Shelton  was  weeping  copious  tears.  But 
if  she  wept  at  all,  her  tears  were  all  shed  inward,  and  bitter 
was  the  taste  of  them.  0  !  it  was  a  piteous  sight  to  look 
upon  her  thus — to  see  that  tremulous  lip,  and  hear  that 
trembling,  weeping  voice,  when  there  was  no  answering  tear 
to  relieve  the  intensity  of  that  great  grief,  which,  like  an 
incubus,  was  resting  upon  the  heart  and  stifling  the  exist- 
ence of  that  sorrowing  mother. 

God  forbid,  dear  reader,  that  you  should  ever  be  called 
to  witness  such  anguish,  for  it  would  make  your  own  heart 
ache  and  your  eyes  full  of  weeping.  The  author,  in  all  his 
varied  experience  and  close  observation  of  human  suffering, 
has  seen  just  such  a  sight  but  once  in  his  life  under  simi- 
lar— somewhat  similar  circumstances ;  and  he  prays  that  he 
may  never  look  upon  its  like  again.  For,  0  !  who  can  tell 
or  imagine  the  anguish  of  a  fond  mother's  heart,  who  sees 
her  child,  upon  whom  she  doated,  and  in  whom  was  a  mother's 
pride,  thus  suddenly  bereft  of  her  reason,  and  rendered, 
whether  by  the  hand  of  man  or  the  will  of  God,  a  raving 
maniac.  Poor  mother!  Help  her!  0,  help  her  to  bear 
her  grief!  for  it  lies  like  a  great  and  a  heavy  burden  upon 
her  soul. 

And  Fetie  rose  from  her  seat,  and,  guided  by  the  weep- 
ing voice  of  Mrs.  Shelton,  with  her  hands  stretched  out  in 
the  air,  like  one  feeling  in  a  dark  room  for  the  wall,  the 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  347 

blind  girl  went  up  to  the  mourning  mother,  and  flinging 
her  arms  around  the  neck  of  Mrs.  Shelton,  as  she  would 
around  the  neck  of  her  own  mother,  she  kissed  both  cheeks 
of  the  grief-smitten  woman,  thinking,  in  her  heart,  that  she 
would  kiss  those  tears  away,  which  she  thought  were  flow- 
ing so  freely,  and  with  her  lips  she  would  drink  them  dry. 
But  how  astonished  was  Fetie  to  feel  no  tears  streaming 
down  her  cheeks  !  and  she  felt  with  her  fingers,  to  see  if  the 
tears  were  where  they  ought  to  be !  And  when  she  knew 
and  wondered  that  there  were  no  tears  there,  and  that  her 
cheeks  were  dry — only  she  heard  still  that  weeping  voice 
with  that  tearless  eye — then  Fetie  drew  back  in  alarm  and 
with  wonder,  like  one  recoiling  at  the  aspect  of  so  much 
woe  and  untold  suffering. 

A  few  days  after  this,  an  incident  occurred  at  the  break- 
fast table,  which,  though  trifling  in  itself,  and  often  observed 
before  by  those  who  have  always  lived  at  the  South — an 
incident  which  I  must  mention,  because  it  serves  as  an  ad- 
ditional illustration  of  one  of  the  most  prominent  features 
of  this  work,  and  because  it  is  so  true  that  every  one  famil- 
iar with  the  institution  of  slavery,  as  it  exists  in  the  South- 
ern States,  will  recognize  it  as  a  faithful  picture  of  a  kind 
and  indulgent  mistress,  as  the  largest  proportion  of  wives 
of  slaveholders  are. 

For  several  days  Mrs.  Shelton  had  eaten  nothing,  and 
Fetie,  also,  ate  but  little.  Mrs.  Shelton  was  a  superior 
housekeeper,  and,  like  all  other  lady-matrons,  she  liked  to 
see  everything  kept  neat,  and  the  cooking  done  in  a  proper 
manner,  even  though  it  should  remain  untouched,  and  was 
all  sent  away  again,  to  be  eaten  by  the  servants  only.  More 
than  once,  lately,  Lucy,  who  was  the  chief  and  only  cook 
now,  had  failed  so  miserably,  and  seemed  so  criminally  ne- 
glectful of  her  duties,  that,  but  for  her  sorrows  and  her  fail- 
ure to  participate  in  any  of  the  meals,  Mrs.  Shelton  would 
certainly  have  reproved  her  for  the  improper  manner  in 
which   many  of  the   dishes   were   brought  upon  the  table. 


348  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

But  on  this  particular  morning  to  which  we  have  reference, 
Mrs.  Shelton  observed  that  the  bread  was  badly  baked,  and 
the  biscuits  were  burnt  to  a  coal.  She  sent  little  Josh,  who 
was  waiting  upon  the  table,  to  call  Lucy  from  the  kitchen, 
as  she  wished  to  see  her  immediately.  When  Lucy  entered 
the  eating-room,  Mrs.  Shelton  asked,  in  her  smiling  tones : 

"  How  is  it,  Lucy,  that  you  can  not  cook  your  meals  right, 
of  late?" 

"How,  missis?"  said  Lucy,  in  feigned  astonishment. 

"How?"  echoed  Mrs.  Shelton.  "Why,  your  bread  is 
almost  as  hard  as  a  stone,  and  your  biscuit  are  burnt  until 
they  are  charred.  And  several  times,  lately,  it  has  been  so, 
although  I  did  not  think  to  tell  you  of  it." 

"  There  ain't  a  piece  of  bread  nor  a  biscuit  burnt  on  that 
table,"  replied  Lucy,  in  an  angry  voice.  "If  you  don't 
want  me  to  brown  de  bread,  I  can  let  'um  be  raw!" 

"  Very  well,  Lucy  !  "  replied  Mrs.  Shelton,  in  trembling 
tones,  while  a  tear  started  to  her  eye  ;  for  those  harsh  words, 
at  such  a  time,  jarred  painfully  upon  her  ear,  and  she  felt 
her  sorrows  all  the  more  keenly,  as  she  thought,  if  she  lost 
the  love  of  her  servants  also,  in  addition  to  her  other  great 
and  irreparable  losses,  how  utterly  wretched  and  lonely  she 
would  be.  "  Very  well,  Lucy !  You  say  you  have  not 
burnt  the  bread ;  let  it  be  so  !  I  shall  speak  to  you  no 
more  on  the  subject.  You  know  that  I  need  but  little, 
myself;  but  I  thought  that  by  mentioning  the  circumstance 
— which,  I  supposed,  was  only  the  result  of  accident,  and 
not  willful  neglect — you  would  be  induced  to  furnish  some- 
thing that  poor  Ella's  little  friend  here  might  eat.  But, 
never  mind,  Lucy  !  You  can  go  now,  and  do  as  you  think 
proper." 

Lucy  made  no  reply,  and  turned  away  in  sorrow  rather 
then  in  anger.  She  was  punished  already ;  for,  when  alone 
in  the  kitchen,  she  thought  of  her  wicked  conduct,  and 
wept  tears  of  penitence  and  sorrow.  Like  a  good  servant — 
as  she  really  was,  in  general — she  never  again  gave  her  mis- 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE     LAND-PIRATE.  349 

tress  cause  for  complaint ;  but,  confessing  her  fault  humbly 
to  her  mistress,  and  entreating  her  pardon,  and,  in  alluding, 
with  tears  of  contrition,  to  the  circumstance  afterward,  she 
said  that  she  knew  not  why  she  had  acted  in  this  unusual 
manner,  unless,  forsooth,  she  had  been  possessed  of  the 
devil,  who  must  have  fled  from  her  breast  at  the  rebuke — 
the  mild  rebuke — of  her  mistress,  and  at  the  sight  of  a 
Christian's  sorrow. 

And  what  more  shall  we  say,  in  this  chapter,  other  than 
to  tell  the  reader  that  the  old  family  physician,  living  a 
considerable  distance  off,  had  been  summoned  to  consult 
with  the  neighborhood  doctor,  a  young  man  of  considerable 
skill  and  abilit}r,  who  had  been  called  in  at  the  very  earliest 
period ;  and  that  their  united  persuasions  induced  Mrs. 
Shelton,  very  reluctantly,  to  send  away  her  dear  daughter 
Ella  to  the  Asylum  for  the  Insane,  at  Philadelphia,  where, 
if  at  any  similar  institution  in  the  world,  her  chance  for 
recovery  was  greatest,  and  where  her  wants  would  be  at- 
tended to  with  the  most  scrupulous  care,  and  after  the  high- 
est dictates  of  humanity.  And  now  that  the  gates  of  the 
asylum  have  closed  upon  her,  and  the  form  of  the  lovely 
girl  is  hid  from  the  world  as  completely  as  in  a  grave,  let 
us  turn  away  our  eyes,  nor  hope,  with  prying  looks,  to  see 
through  the  narrow  bars  of  her  cell.  Let  us  drop  a  thick 
curtain  between  us  and  the  poor  lunatic,  that  we  may  not 
see  her  insane  acts ;  and  let  us  turn  away  our  heads,  when 
we  meet  her  friends  at  home,  that  we  may  seem  not  to  see 
their  weeping,  or  know  the  cause  of  their  distress.  For  it 
is  a  painful  subject  to  dwell  upon,  and  an  humbling  calam- 
ity, which  touches  the  pride  of  the  human  heart  most  where 
there  has  been  any  pride  of  intellect.  But,  as  mortifying 
and  as  distressing  as  this  calamity  is  to  us  all,  let  us  hope 
that  that  God  who  "  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb," 
and  who,  even  "in  wrath,  remembers  mercy,"  "will  not  al- 
ways chide,  nor  keep  his  anger  forever ;  "  but  that  "  like  as 
a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  will   pity  them 


350  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

that  fear  him,"  "for  He  knoweth  our  frame,  and  He  re- 
membereth  that  we  are  dust;"  therefore  will  He  "bring 
good  out  of  evil;"  for  "whom  He  loveth  He  chasteneth, 
and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  He  receiveth." 

"  May  de  good  Lord,"  said  Old  Toney,  "  restore  my  nyung 
missis  back  to  us  again  sane  and  sound,  and  no  longer  daft! 
but  may  de  wengeance  ob  Almighty  Glod  obertake  Mass' 
Orton  !    Yes,  de  lake  !  de  lake  !  he  shall  perish  in  de  lake  !  " 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  351 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OME  years  ago,  the  author  was  informed,  by  one  of 
our  oldest  and  most  respectable  citizens,  that,  not  very 
long  after  he  married,  he  became  acquainted  with  Ste- 
vens, the  land-pirate,  in  rather  a  peculiar  way ;  and 
now  he  looks  back  with  a  shudder  upon  that  time, 
when  he  remembers  how  easily  he  could  have  been  robbed 
and  murdered. 

"  I  had  landed,"  said  he,  "at  night,  from  an  old  and  long 
since  exploded  steamer — I  believe  she  was  called  the  "  Cot- 
ton Plant" — which  used  to  run  a  little  way  up  the  river. 
I  had  landed  at  the  ancient  and  now  dilapidated  village  of 
Purysburg.  This  village  was  built  long  ago — years,  I  be- 
lieve, before  the  Revolution — was  once  a  place  of  consid- 
erable trade,  and  its  early  founders  thought  it  was  destined 
to  be  the  great  emporium  of  commerce  for  Georgia,  and 
South  Carolina  also.  But  the  hopes  of  the  wisest  builders 
are  often  blasted ;  for  Purysburg  soon  discovered  that  she 
had  not  only  a  rival  in  the  city  of  Savannah,  but  that  Geor- 
gia's seaport  was  destined  soon  to  annihilate  her  very  exist- 
ence. But  if  Purysburg  failed  to  become  a  city,  which 
perished  in  its  embryo  condition ;  if  its  streets,  which  were 
blotted  on  paper,  became  grown  up  with  grass,  or  converted 
into  roads,  and  its  houses  tumbled  into  decay,  and  its  in- 
habitants died  before  they  were  born  ;  its  grand  old  trees 
still  rear  their  heads  as  proudly  as  they  did  centuries  ago. 
It  was  upon  that  Indian  mound,  reared  by  the  Aborigines 


352  OU)    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

on  the  Savannah  river  bank,  and  beneath  that  venerable  old 
oak,  that  I  took  shelter  from  the  heavy  dew  which  falls  in 
that  Ideality  ;  and  my  only  companion  was  Stevens,  who  had 
landed  with  me  from  the  little  steamer.  I  remember  him 
well,  as  if  yesterday  I  had  seen  him  ;  for  I  was  struck  with 
his  genteel  appearance,  which,  although  not  altogether  that 
of  'a  gentleman  to  the  manor  born,'  wTas,  nevertheless, 
much  more  genteel  than  is  ordinarily  seen  among  our  hard-^ 
fisted  yeomanry.  He  icas  a  decidedly  smart  fellow,  and  had 
much  to  talk  about  which  interested  me  ;  for,  although  he 
had  not  read  much — indeed,  was  a  man  of  too  active  phys- 
ical habits  and  restless  disposition  for  that — yet  he  had  seen 
a  great  deal  of  life  and  natural  scenery,  and  had  studied 
human  nature  very  closely.  He  was  a  man  of  about  five 
feet  ten  inches  in  hight,  I  should  think,  with  an  actively- 
made,  well-knit  frame ;  his  legs  a  little  bowed,  from  constant 
horse-back  riding,  and  an  eye  as  keen  as  a  hawk's,  and,  as 
near  as  I  can  remember,  it  resembled  a  hawk's  somewhat 
in  color  as  well  as  expression.  In  fact,  there  was  a  peculiar 
and  disagreeable  expression  of  his  eye,  which  made  me  feel 
a  little  uneasy,  at  times;  for  it  ever  seemed  to  he  upon  me, 
like  that  of  a  capttered  hawk,  confined  %  °  string,  so  that  it 
can  not  move  its  body,  but  which  moves  its  eyes  at  every 
gesture  you  make.  I  should  think  it  would  have  been  a 
very  difficult  matter  for  such  a  man  as  Stevens  to  have  been 
surprised  by  the  most  stealthy  foe,  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
he  would  have  boon  a  very  dangerous  enemy ;  and  I  thank 
God  that  he  did  not  think  proper  to  consider  me  one  upon 
that  occasion  ! 

"Indeed,  so  far  from  treating  me  in  any  way  uncivilly,  his 
conduct  toward  me  was  so  kind  and  considerate,  being  then, 
as  now,  an  invalid,  that  I  felt  even  grateful  to  him  for  his 
attentions.  But  there  was  one  thing  which  struck  me  at 
the  time  as  singular;  and  that  was,  that,  although  Stevens 
dressed  so  well,  and  even  wore  a  fine  gold  watch  and  chain, 
I  had  never  heard  of  his  doing  anything  for  a  living  in  the 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  353 

way  of  work.     But  I  dismissed  the  subject  from  my  mind, 
concluding  that  my  companion  must  be  a  pretty  shifty  fellow. 

"Sometime  after  daylight  my  gig  arrived,  and,  as  Stevens 
seemed  anxious  to  get  up  the  country,  I  offered  him  a  seat, 
which  he  gladly  accepted,  it  was  an  old-fashioned  vehicle, 
which  would  look  very  singular  in  these  days  of  fine  bug- 
gics  and  carriages ;  but  it  rode  very  comfortably,  only  a 
little  too  springy,  and  Stevens  and  I  went  on  very  pleas- 
antly chatting  together. 

"  When  we  reached  my  house,  Stevens  left  his  saddle- 
bags in  my  care,  saying  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  call 
for  them  for  several  days.  I  put  them  away  very  carefully 
in  a  closet,  and,  locking  the  door,  put  the  key  in  my  pocket; 
for  I  knew,  by  their  weight,  that  there  was  considerable 
money  in  them.  When  Stevens  called  for  the  saddle-bags 
again,  he  was  riding  a  very  good  horse,  and  seemed  to  be 
anxious  to  get  away.  Of  course,  I  thought  nothing  of  his 
hurry  then,  and  would  never  have  thought  of  it  afterward, 
if  I  had  not  since  heard  that  he  was  a  murderer  and  a  high- 
way  robber.  In  all  probability  he  had  then  just  committed 
some  recent  act  of  felon}7 — perhaps  murdered  the  owner  of 
that  horse,  and  wished  to  get  away  as  fast  as  possible." 

The  author,  who  has  a  better  opportunity  of  gathering 
incidents  connected  with  this  story  than  either  the  reader 
or  his  informer,  will  now  continue  his  narrative  in  his  own 
style.  .Hid  tell  why  St.-vens  called  for  his  Baddle-bsgS  BO  Boon. 

When  Slovens  reached  his  home,  from  which  he  had  been 
absent  for  Beveral  months,  he  found  his  wile  very  ill — in  a 
dying  condition.  When  T  say  his  wife,  1  do  not  mean  to 
s]>e;ik  with  historical  accuracy:  for  I  have  not  been  able  to 

rtain  whether  Bhe  waa  his  wife,  concubine,  or  miati 
The  poor  woman  had  sent    for   Mrs.  Shell..;,   *  to  come  ami 
-,•,•  her  die.  for  sJu    had  >>  :;r><i/  secret  <>i<  her  mind,  which 
she  wished  to  imparl  to  her,  ami  her  ;il  Bu1  before 

Mrs,  Shelti.n  arrived,  Stevens  hud  reached  home.     He  was, 
therefore,  ahead  of  her,  and  it  v..  aid  he  a  difficult  matter, 


354  OLD   TONEY    AND   HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

under  the  circumstances,  for  the  poor  woman  to  relieve 
herself  of  the  dreadful  secret  which  lay  so  heavily  upon  her 
heart,  without  the  knowledge  or  consent  of  her  husband ; 
especially,  too,  when  he  was  so  very  watchful  in  his  habits 
and  stealthy  in  his  movements. 

A  short  time  after  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  Lang- 
don  Shelton  at  the  Jasper  Spring,  Stevens,  who  had  been 
absent  for  more  than  a  week  from  home,  returned  to  his 
wife  flushed  with  money,  and  wearing  a  fine  gold  watch  and 
chain.  Mrs.  Stevens  asked  him  how  he  had  got  so  much 
money,  and  he  satisfied  her  very  easily  by  telling  her  that 
he  had  been  playing  "seven  up,"  or  "old  sledge,"  with  a 
parcel  of  fellows  in  the  city  of  Savannah,  and  had  been  very 
lucky.  But  when,  a  few  days  afterward,  Mrs.  Stevens  had 
noticed  some  blood-stains  upon  his  coat — the  coat  was  a 
blue  one  and  the  stains  had  become  almost  black,  except 
where  she  had  scraped  them  with  a  knife — astonished  at 
this  discovery,  Mrs.  Stevens  asked  her  husband,  very  inno- 
cently, how  his  coat  got  blooded,  and,  after  a  little  hesita- 
tion and  some  embarrassment,  which  she  observed  at  the 
time,  his  reply  was,  that  "  he  had  had  a  fight  with  a  fellow 
who  accused  him  of  cheating,  and  he  supposed  that  he  had 
washed  away  all  signs  of  blood." 

This  answer,  although  given  in  a  hesitating  way,  very 
naturally  satisfied  Mrs.  Stevens,  who,  as  yet,  had  no  suspi- 
cion that  her  husband  had  been  guilty  of  the  crime  of  mur- 
der and  highway  robbery.  But  when  the  country  became 
full  of  the  mysterious  murder  of  Colonel  Shelton's  son 
Langdon,  she  felt  some  uneasiness  lest  her  husband  may 
have  been  guilty  of  some  foul  play;  and  her  suspicions 
were  strengthened  by  discovering  certain  initials  upon  the 
gold  watch  which  Stevens  had  left  hung  up  over  the  man- 
tel-piece, while  he  went  into  the  horse-lot  just  before  break- 
fast. During  his  absence  the  woman  had  taken  down  the 
watch,  and  while  she  was  admiring  it  as  a  very  pretty  piece 
of  workmanship,  her  eye  fell  upon  the  initials  "L.  S."  cut 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  355 

on  the  inner  case  with  a  pen-knife,  in  very  small  letters. 
"L.  S."  thought  the  woman — "  L.  S. — That  means  Lang- 
don  Shelton  !  Great  God !  It  is  then  only  too  true,  as  I 
have  feared,  that  my  husband  has  killed  him  !  and  that 's 
why  he  is  so  flush  with  money  ! " 

When  Stevens  came  into  the  house,  he  found  his  wife 
still  looking  at  the  watch.  He  took  his  seat  in  a  leather- 
bottomed  chair  by  her  side,  and  observed,  with  forced 
gayety : 

"That  is  a  damned  fine  watch,  Mary." 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply  of  Mrs.  Stevens,  who  now  looked 
him  steadily  in  the  eye,  and,  with  a  sad  countenance,  said : 
"But,  Stevens,  my  dear,  don't  you  think  you  had  better 
destroy  this  watch,  or  change  your  name  to  Langdon — 
Langdon  Stevens  ? " 

He  started  as  though  an  adder  had  stung  him,  and  trem- 
bled at  the  mention  of  that  name.  But,  recovering  his 
habitual  composure,  after  a  few  moments,  he  said,  in  as 
careless  a  tone  as  he  could  well  assume : 

"Why,  Mary?" 

"  Because  I  see  two  letters  scratched  upon  this  watch- 
case;  they  are  L.  S.,  which  would  make  Langdon" she 

paused,  and  saw  him  wince  and   become  fidgety,  then  she 
added,  "  Stevens" 

He  took  the  watch  from  her  hand  in  a  flurried,  brusque 
way,  and,  drawing  out  his  pocket-knife,  scratched  out  the 
initials  of  Langdon  Shelton ;  then  he  put  away  the  watch 
in  his  watch-fob,  and  said,  in  a  low,  determined  voice : 

"If  you  tell  any  one  what  you  have  seen,  by  God,  I  will 
shoot  you  dead — anywhere — in  the  biggest  crowd — if  I 
swing  for  it!  " 

The  woman  trembled  violently,  for  she  knew  that  her 
husband  would  do  what  he  threatened  ;  and  henceforth  fear 
would  make  her  hold  her  tongue  still.  But  when  she  felt 
that  her  end  was  approaching  fast,  her  conscience  smote  her 
for  retaining  so  long  a  terrible  secret,  lest,  by  doing  so  any 


356  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

longer,  God  would  hold  her  as  particeps  criminis,  or,  at  least, 
as  an  accessory  after  the  commission  of  the  murderous  deed. 
It  was,  therefore,  with  the  intention  of  imparting  to  Mrs. 
Shelton  all  the  knowledge  she  was  in  possession  of  concern- 
ing her  husband's  guilt,  which  she  had  no  doubt  would,  in 
a  great  measure,  relieve  the  mother's  anxiety  in  regard  to 
the  uncertain  fate  of  her  son,  although  she  well  knew  that 
it  would  rather  aggravate  than  relieve  her  sorrow. 

Mrs.  Stevens  had  sent  a  messenger  in  haste  to  Mrs.  Shel- 
ton, requesting  her  to  come  without  delay,  as  she  felt  that 
her  end  was  rapidly  approaching,  and  she  wished  to  tell  to 
hers.elf  alone  an  important  secret,  which  concerned  her 
deeply.  But  when  she  arrived  and  entered  into  the  sick 
chamber,  the  dying  woman  said,  in  a  feeble  voice  : 

"0  !  why  did  n't  you  come  sooner?  You  have  come  too 
late!  too  late  !  "  For  she  saw  her  husband's  eye  upon  her, 
as  he  stood  in  the  doorway,  not  far  from  the  bedside. 

"I  came  as  soon  as  I  could — just  as  soon  as  I  received 
your  message,"  was  the  reply  of  Mrs.  Shelton.  "  Why  is  it 
too  late?     What  is  it  that  you  wish  to  tell  me?" 

"Nothing!  0,  nothing,  now!"  said  Mrs.  Stevens,  flinging 
up  her  hands  despairingly  ;  for  she  felt  that  her  husband's 
hawk-like  eye  was  upon  her,  turn  her  head  whichsoever  way 
she  might,  and  she  feared  lest  he  would  fulfill  his  threat 
and  shoot  her  dead  as  she  lay  helpless  upon  her  death-bed, 
"anywhere — everywhere,"  as  he  had  threatened. 

Stevens  never  left  that  room  again  until  his  wife  died. 
No  person  could  induce  him  to  lie  down  to  snatch  even  a 
moment's  repose.  For  two  whole  days  and  nights  he  watched 
in  that  sick  chamber,  watching  every  movement,  however 
slight,  of  Mrs.  Shelton  and  his  wife,  lest  the  latter  might  avail 
herself  of  only  a  few  moment's  absence  to  impart  the  fatal 
secret  to  the  mother  of  his  victim.  Only  once,  and  for  a 
single  moment,  he  nodded  in  his  chair,  and  seemed  to  drop 
into  a  gentle  slumber,  for  once  or  twice  he  began  to  snore. 
Mrs.  Stevens  then  made  a  sign  with  her  thin,  wan  hand,  tc 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  357 

Mrs.  Shelton  to  approach  the  bedside.  That  benevolent 
lady  rose  from  her  seat  very  cautiously,  and  leaned  over  the 
dying  woman,  whose  end  was  approaching  now  very  rapidly. 
Mrs.  Stevens  opened  her  lips,  and  was  in  the  very  act  of 
speaking,  when  she  saw  her  husband,  who  was  in  his  stock- 
ings, and  trod  so  lightly  upon  the  floor — so  lightly  that  Mrs. 
Shelton  could  not  hear  him — she  saw  hiin  standing  just 
behind  Mrs.  Shelton,  with  a  pistol  in  his  hand,  leveled  at 
herself  over  the  shoulder  of  her  visitor  !  When  she  looked 
into  the  muzzle  of  that  murderous  weapon,  and  fancied  that 
she  could  see  the  leaden  ball  coming  slowly  out,  to  bury 
itself  in  her  brain,  she  threw  up  her  hands  imploringly 
and  shrieked  aloud ;  for  the  love  of  life  is  strong  even  in 
death,  and  it  is  said  that  the  felon  condemned  to  death 
counts  the  hours  as  days,  and  the  moments  as  hours  which 
he  has  to  live,  and  for  not  even  the  last  moment  would  he 
take  untold  wealth. 

When  Mrs.  Stevens  shrieked  out  that  way,  and  threw  her 
hands  up  in  agony,  Mrs.  Shelton  started  back  in  alarm  and 
struck  against  the  body  of  Stevens,  who  stood  behind  her ; 
but  before  she  could  turn  round  he  had  put  back  the  pistol 
into  his  breast,  and  remarked,  in  a  voice  which  she  thought 
agitated : 

"  Please  step  to  the  water-pail,  madam,  and  get  her  some 
water,  or  she  will  faint!" 

Mrs.  Shelton  did  as  she  was  directed,  and  returned  quick- 
ly with  the  water  ;  but  in  her  absence  she  heard  Stevens 
say,  in  low  tones,  not  meant  for  the  ears  of  another : 

"  If  you  say  one  word  to  her,  I  will  shoot  you  before 
you  die  !     By  G— d  I  will,  if" 

The  poor  woman's  face  became  slightly  spasmed,  and 
before  Mrs.  Shelton  could  give  her  the  water,  she  was  in 
strong  convulsions.  But  they  lasted  for  a  little  while  only, 
and  when  they  were  over,  she  sunk  into  the  sleep  from 
which  there  is  no  awakening.  She  was  dead!  And  Mrs. 
Shelton  went  away  sorrowful,  and  never  learned  the  secret 


358  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  J    OR, 

which  would  only  have  caused  her  heart  to  bleed  afresh. 
Thus  a  merciful  Grod,  in  pity  for  her  great  distresses,  with- 
held from  her  the  secret,  kept  her  from  knowing  that  the 
man  who  seemed  so  kind  to  his  wife,  so  watchful  and  so 
attentive  to  her  wants  in  her  dying  hour,  was  a  cold-blooded 
murderer,  who  had  slain  her  son,  and  would  not  hesitate, 
for  gold,  to  take  her  life  also.  But  when  she  heard  those 
cruel,  cruel  words,  although  she  knew  not  their  meaning, 
yet  she  felt,  from  that  moment,  an  invincible  repugnance  to 
the  cold-hearted  hypocrite  who  could  seem  to  be  kind, 
when  he  was  at  heart  a  deceitful  wretch. 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  359 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HE  death  of  Mrs.  Stevens  occurred  about  two  months 
after  the  insanity  of  Ella  Shelton.  Mrs.  Shelton  had 
adopted  Fetie  as  her  daughter,  by  the  consent  of  her 
parents,  and  the  blind  girl  now  called  her  "mother," 
and  whenever  she  spoke  of  Ella,  which  was  but  seldom, 
although  she  was  constantly  in  her  thoughts,  she  called  her 
"her  poor  dear  sister  Ella."  Thus  was  Fetie  the  only 
companion  and  solace  of  the  poor  widow  in  her  afflictive 
bereavements. 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  Herbert,  the  disappointed  lover, 
whose  heart  seemed  crushed  by  his  load  of  sorrow ;  disap- 
pointed only  by  an  affliction  sent  from  heaven  !  Could  such 
a  man  linger  where  he  had  been  accustomed  to  linger,  or  go 
through  the  routine  of  business  with  the  same  steady  hand 
and  unclouded  intellect  ?  His  love  had  been  too  great  for 
that,  and  now  his  grief  was  commensurate  with  his  love. 
He  wandered,  therefore,  over  European  lands,  and  sought 
to  drown  his  sorrow  in  the  loud  roar  of  human  voices  in 
the  densely-populated  kingdoms  of  the  East.  But  wherever 
he  went,  the  maddening  thought  was  with  him,  that  he  was 
a  deeply  afflicted  man,  and  without  hope  in  the  world.  And 
as  he  walked  through  the  crowded  streets  of  densely-crowded 
cities,  even  among  so  many  strangers,  he  was  remarked  as 
a  man  who  was  overburdened  by  a  secret  sorrow  too  great 
for   utterance.      Although    still    so    young,    he    seemed    to 


360  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

others,  and  felt  himself,  as  did  Dean  Swift  when  he  returned 
to  Ireland,  disgraced  and  in  disfavor  with  the  English  min- 
istry, proscribed  by  his  own  folly — that  "his  tree  was 
withered  at  the  top,"  and  he  longed  that  the  trunk  should 
die  also.  "  0,  that  I  could  lie  down  in  the  friendly  grave, 
and  be  at  rest,"  he  often  cried  aloud;  and  were  it  not  that 
he  had  been  early  taught  by  pious  parents,  he  would  have 
committed  suicide,  perhaps,  to  rid  himself  of  his  misery. 
But  he  knew  and  acknowledged  to  himself,  that,  notwith- 
standing the  teachings  of  Seneca,  the  teacher  of  Nazareth 
was  a  oreater  and  a  better  sruide. 

But  there  were  times  when  the  thought  of  his  betrothed's 
insanity  had  such  an  effect  upon  him,  that  he  felt  like  going 
mad  himself.  Restless  and  uneasy,  he  wandered  every- 
where without  any  definite  object.  He  climbed  the  scarred 
and  blistered  sides  of  old  Vesuvius,  and  looked  down  into 
its  crater,  and,  as  he  felt  the  hot  steam  upon  his  face,  he 
felt  like  leaping  down  into  the  throat  of  the  old  grumbling 
volcano,  to  make  it  cease  its  grumblings  ;  and  then  he  turned 
away  and  went  down  in  haste,  fearful  lest  he  might  be 
tempted,  in  a  moment  of  frenzy,  to  do  the  sinful  deed. 

Then  he  went  to  Venice,  and  stood  upon  "  the  Bridge  of 
Sighs,"  and  wished  that,  as  in  the  olden  time,  he  were  a 
Doge,  or  a  patriot  prince,  whose  only  crime  was  that  he 
loved  his  country  too  well,  and  was  about  to  be  sacrificed 
by  a  jealous  and  revengeful  senate.  And  he  stood  upon 
the  lofty  bights  of  the  snow-capped  Alps,  and  the  frost  and 
the  snow  cooled  not  his  fevered  brow.  And  he  stood  upon 
a  rock  leaning  over  an  awful  precipice,  like  Manfred,  look- 
ing down  into  the  black  abyss  from  the  dizzy  hight ;  and 
he  wished  that  some  friendly  hand  could  push  him  from 
the  rock,  or  that  the  rock  itself  would  crumble  and  fall, 
and  hurl  him  headlong  into  the  dark  chasm  below!  But 
there  was  no  cruel  hand  to  push  him  from  the  rock,  and 
the  rock  itself  stood  firm  as  it  had  stood  for  untold  ages. 
Then  looking,  with  a  curl  of  scorn  upon  his  lips,  toward 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  301 

the  East,  toward  the  imperial  city,  and  back  to  the  ages 
that  had  passed,  he  said,  with  bitterness  : 

"Thou  hast  lied,  0,  Seneca!  when  thou  saidst  that  when 
a  misanthrope,  when  a  man  is  weary  of  his  life,  <  he  may 
find  deliverance  dangling  from  every  limb  which  he  sees,' 
and  that  'even  at  the  bottom  of  every  well  there  lies  deliv- 
erance there  ! '  No  !  no  !  not  even  with  our  own  consent, 
unless  God  withdraws  his  almighty  hand— his  restraining 
hand!"  & 

And  he  turned  away  with  a  sigh   and  with   a   shudder 
from  the  precipice  among  the  Alps ;  shuddering  at  himself 
that  he  had  been  so  sinful  as  to  be  tempted  so  often  with 
the  desire  for  self-destruction.     But  he  had  committed  no 
crime  to  madden  him  with  the  tortures  of  the  "  worm  that 
never  dies;"   and  great  as  was  his  grief,  it  was  not  great 
enough  to  so  distract  his  mind  as  to  make  him  rush  with 
bloody   hands,  and   a  mangled,   self-immolated  body,   into 
the  presence  of  his  maker— God !     Europe,  with  its  myriad 
rushing  throngs  of  unsympathizing  strangers,  was  not  the 
place  for  such  as  Herbert,  nor  the  desert  plain,   nor  the 
lonely  rock.     The  cross,  and  the  cross  only,  was  the  place 
where  he  could  find  comfort  and  obtain  relief!     And  to  the 
cross  of  Christ  he  was  ultimately  led,  and  found  relief  and 
comfort  there.     For  never  yet  did  "the  weary  and  heavy 
laden,"  under  any  and  all  circumstances,  amidst  trials  and 
temptations,  doubts  or  fears,  fail   to   find  relief  and   hope 
when  bowed  humbly  at  the  cross  of  Christ ! 

It  was  on  his  passage  home  across  the  wide  Atlantic, 
when  lying  in  his  berth  and  looking  upward,  that  he  found 
faith  in  Jesus  and  hope  in  the  future.  He  could  not  see, 
with  his  natural  eyes,  through  the  thick  oak  planks  of  the 
deck;  he  could  not  see  the  sky,  nor  the  stars  shining  over- 
head, but  he  knew  that  the  sky  was  there,  and  that  the 
stars  were  twinkling  all  the  same,  and  that  they  were  now, 
as  ever,  looking  down  upon  the  ship.     So  he  knew,  also,  that 

God  ruled  in  heaven,  and  that  the  Savior  of  sinners  was 
10 


362  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS  MASTER  ;    OR, 

sitting  still — now,  as  always,  and  forever — upon  the  throne 
of  mercy,  or  by  his  Father's  side,  interceding  for  lost  and 
ruined  man ! 

It  was  dark  in  his  berth,  but  he  began  to  feel  that 
there  was  a  little  light,  faint  at  first,  like  the  light  of  the 
glow-worm  lighting  up  the  darkness,  and  the  light  would 
grow  bigger  and  brighter  by  and  by.  So  he  went  out  upon 
the  deck,  and  he  was  astonished  to  see  how  bright  the  stars 
seemed  to  shine,  far  brighter  than  he  had  ever  seen  them 
shine  before ;  and  how  merrily  the  waves  seemed  to  chase 
each  other  in  the  starlight,  much  more  merrily  than  he 
had  ever  seen  them  chase  each  other  before.  And  his 
heart  seemed  to  be  catching  the  contagion  of  gladness, 
and  he  could  have  shouted  to  the  waves,  and  laughed  joy- 
ously with  the  twinkling  stars. 

Then,  somehow  or  other,  as  he  neared  the  port  of  Phil- 
adelphia, as  he  sailed  up  Delaware  Bay,  and  passed  by 
"  Breakwater,"  and  then  up  the  river,  on  and  on  toward 
the  city,  his  heart  grew  calm  with  faith,  and  hope,  and  love. 

As  soon  as  Herbert  had  secured  his  lodgings  at  one  of 
the  most  fashionable  hotels  in  the  city,  he  ordered  a  car- 
riage and  drove  round  to  the  Asylum  for  the  Insane.  On 
sending  in  his  card,  the  kind  superintendent  himself  came 
out,  and  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand,  as  an  old  friend, 
saying,  "  I  am  very  glad,  indeed,  you  have  come,  Mr.  Her- 
bert ;  Miss  Shelton  has  frequently  spoken  of  you — at  first 
with  an  expression  of  horror,  and  sometimes  with  a  scream 
of  terror,  but  now  only  with  a  smile  or  a  tear." 

"And  how  is  she,  my  dear  sir?"  asked  Herbert,  with  an 
expression  of  mournful  anxiety. 

"  A  great  deal  better,  sir,  thank  God !  Indeed,  I  may 
say  she  is  well ! — cured !  I  have  already  written  to  her 
mother  that  her  daughter  may,  with  perfect  propriety,  be 
taken  home." 

Herbert  gasped  for  breath,  and  seemed  so  much  overcome 
by  his  joy,  at  the  announcement  of  Ella's  recovery,  that, 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  363 

for  a  little  while,  he  was  compelled  to  steady  himself,  by 
placing  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  superintendent, 
who  passed  his  arm  kindly  around  his  waist,  and  led  him 
thus  into  the  building.  By  the  time  Herbert  had  reached 
the  ladies'  private  parlor,  lie  was  perfectly  calm,  while  his 
heart  was  even  thanking  <«<>d  for  his  goodness  arid  loving- 
kindness.  He  had,  indeed,  "tempered  the  wind  to  the  shorn 
lamb,"  and,  in  the  midst  of  afflictions  and  seeming  great 
wrath,  he  had  not  forgotten  to  be  merciful. 

Miss  Shelton  soon  appeared,  at  the  request  of  the  super- 
intendent. When  she  entered  the  room,  her  steps  were 
eager,  and  she  had  both  hands  extended  to  grasp  that  of  her 
lover.  But  Herbert  did  not  take  her  bv  the  hand  ;  for,  not- 
withstanding  the  presence  of  the  superintendent,  he  folded 
her  to  his  breast,  as  a  husband  would  his  wife  after  a  long 
and  painful  separation,  or  a  return  from  a  weary  voyage. 

"God  bless  you,  dearest  Ella!"  said  he,  as  she  sobbed 
upon  his  breast.     "  My  lost  treasure  is  found  again." 

"Yes,  Herbert!  saved!  saved!"  she  replied,  as  he  led 
her  to  a  sofa.  "  And  0  !  how  rejoiced  and  how  grateful  I 
am  to  see  you  so  well  and  in  such  health,  and  to  know  that 
it  was  all  a  horrible  dream  which  I  had  so  long  concerning 
you." 

Then  she  told  him  the  dream,  or  vision,  which  had  tor- 
mented her  for  several  painful  months  ;  and  when  it  had 
appeared  in  strongest  colors,  it  then  so  overcame  her  that 
she  could  do  nothing  but  shriek,  and  scream,  and  flee  from 
the  horrible  apparition.  And  the  dream! — the  idea  which 
had  possessed  her  mind,  for  a  long  while  after  the  first 
humiliating  one  had  fled,  was,  that  in  one  corner  of  her 
room  she  saw  her  father's  skeleton ;  while,  in  the  other, 
she  beheld  the  form  of  her  lover,  standing  erect,  but  with 
his  throat  gashed  from  ear  to  ear  ! — a  horrid  wound  made 
by  a  razor  !  but  the  lips  of  the  wound  were  united  together 
by  thin  strips  of  adhesive  plaster !  and  whenever  the  wind 
blew,  or  the  slightest  breath  of  air  stirred,  she  had  fancied 


364  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

that  she  could  hear  the  bones  of  her  venerable  father  rat- 
tling and  crashing  against  each  other  !  But  if  the  wind 
blew  fresh  and  strong,  or  if  a  storm  raged  without,  that  the 
windows  rattled  in  their  casements,  then  the  long,  bony  arms 
of  her  father  whirled  and  flirted  from  side  to  side,  striking 
against  his  ribs,  and  producing  the  most  painful  noise  im- 
aginable, like  the  noise  of  a  dead  drummer,  playing,  with 
his  skeleton  hand,  upon  his  spirit-drum,  and  beating  away, 
with  the  frenzied  energy  of  a  deathless  maniac-spirit,  his 
never-ceasing,  ever-resounding  reveille — reminding  her  of 
that  poor  drummer  who  was  hurled  down  a  precipice  among 
the  Alps,  at  "  the  passage  of  the  Splugen,"  by  an  avalanche, 
which  had  swept  off  thirty  of  Macdonald's  brave  troopers, 
and  their  horses  along  with  it,  in  its  wild  plunge  into  the 
gulf  below.  But  the  drummer  fell,  unhurt,  to  the  bottom 
of  the  gulf,  and,  crawling  out  from  the  snow  which  had  broken 
his  fall,  began  to  beat  his  drum  for  relief.  "  Deep  down, 
amid  the  crushed  forms  of  avalanches,  the  poor  fellow  stood, 
and,  for  a  whole  hour,  beat  the  rapid  strains  which  had  so 
often  summoned  his  companions  to  arms.  The  muffled  sound 
came  ringing  up  the  face  of  the  precipice,  the  most  touch- 
ing appeal  that  could  be  made  to  a  soldier's  heart.  But  no 
hand  could  reach  him  there  ;  and  the  rapid  blows  grew 
fainter  and  fainter,  till  they  ceased  altogether,  and  the  poor 
drummer  lay  down  to  die.  He  had  beaten  his  last  reveille, 
and  his  companions  passed  mournfully  on,  leaving  the  Al- 
pine storm  to  sing  his  dirge. "* 

So,  too,  poor  Ella  Shelton  had  been  tormented  with  the 
idea  that  she  not  only  saw  the  skeleton  of  her  father  stand- 
ins:  erect  in  the  corner  of  her  chamber,  but  that  his  own 
spirit,  without  shape,  as  the  wind,  had  been  beating,  with 
her  father's  skeleton  hand,  its  own  dirge  upon  his  bony 
carcass.  And  then  she  used  to  shriek  aloud,  and  tremble, 
and  never  recover  from  her  agitation  until  the  wind  died 

*  See  Headley's  Napoleon  and  his  Marshals,  vol.  i. 


THE    ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-riRATE.  365 

away,  or  she  had  become  exhausted  by  the  intensity  of  her 
mental  tortures ;  and  then  she  thought  that  the  spirit  had 
become  weary  or  had  lain  down,  like  the  poor,  wearied, 
frozen  drummer  who  had  beat  his  last  reveille  on  earth  at 
the  bottom  of  the  steep  precipice  at  the  "via  mala." 

But  the  other  idea  which  had  tormented  her  at  the  same 
time,  and  added  to  the  horrors  of  her  existence,  was  even 
more  distressing,  because  seemingly  more  real,  and,  to  her 
mind,  was  as  painful  as  a  reality.  Whenever  she  turned 
her  eyes  away,  that  she  might  no  longer  look  upon  the 
skeleton  form  of  Colonel  Shelton,  nor  see  his  long,  bony 
arms  writhing,  and  twisting,  and  striking  against  his  bare 
ribs — when  she  looked  toward  the  opposite  corner,  0  !  how 
her  heart  must  have  ached  with  anguish,  to  see  the  form 
of  her  lover  there,  standing  in  the  corner,  with  his  gashed 
throat,  and  the  lips  of  that  frightful  wound  held  together 
only  by  thin  strips  of  adhesive  plaster.  But  that  which 
tormented  her  most  was  the  painful  idea  that  whenever 
any  one  entered  the  room,  her  lover,  with  his  usual  polite- 
ness, would  invariably  bow  his  head  to  the  visitor ;  and 
that,  in  the  act  of  bowing  the  head,  the  strips  of  adhesive 
plaster  would  give  way,  and  the  wound  be  ripped  open,  and 
the  blood  would  gush  out  in  broad,  red  streams  upon  the 
floor.  Then  it  was  that  she  closed  her  eyes  and  covered 
up  her  face  with  both  her  hands,  and  shrieked  aloud,  "  My 
poor  Herbert!"  and  sometimes  fainted  away  at  the  awful 
spectacle  which  she  fancied  she  had  seen  in  reality.  And 
sometimes  the  physician  of  the  asylum  had  to  be  called  in 
to  administer  relief;  and  several  times  she  came  near  dying, 
and  was  confined,  for  a  long  while,  upon  a  sick  bed.* 

"But,  thank  God,  the  horrible  dream  is  now  over!"  she 
added,  after  finishing  the  painful  recital. 


<'This  is  a  f.iithful  description,  almost  verbatim,  of  the  two  tormenting  ideas  of 
an  elegant  Southern  lady,  who  returned  from  tho  asylum  cured,  and,  a  little  while 
after  her  return  home,  told  her  feelings  when  insane,  to  the  author.  It  is,  there- 
fore, no  fancy  6Uetcli. 


366  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

"Yes,  thank  God!"  added  Herbert,  fervently;  "and  my 
dream  also — a  horrible  dream  ! — is  over  now,  thank  God  ; 
for  I,  too,  have  been  mad,  and  others  knew  it  not.  But  the 
Savior  of  sinners — the  same  blessed  Jesus  of  Nazareth  who 
cured  the  lunatic  who  was  a  giant  in  his  madness,  and  whom 
no  chains  could  bind  and  no  bars  restrain,  but  who,  with  a 
word,  released  his  enthralled  spirit,  and  then  bade  him  "  Go 
and  tell  his  friends  what  great  things  the  Lord  had  done  for 
him,  and  had  compassion  on  him" — that  same  Jesus  has 
released  my  spirit  also  from  the  bondage  of  sin,  and  has 
blessed  me,  and  made  me  happy  as  never  man  seemed  blessed. 
And  now,  after  relieving  me  of  a  great  and  intolerable  bur- 
den, he  has  given  me  a  great  and  inestimable  treasure — re- 
stored a  casket — a  priceless  jewel  which,  I  feared,  was  lost 
forever." 

Then,  somehow  or  other,  Herbert  found  himself  slipping 
down  from  the  sofa,  until  he  got  upon  his  knees,  and  Ella 
Shelton  slipped  down  upon  her  knees  also,  in  front  of  him  ; 
and  his  arms  were  around  her  neck,  and  her  hands  were  laid 
upon  his  shoulders.  Then  the  kind  old  superintendent,  like 
a  benevolent  old  father  approaching  his  kneeling  children, 
left  the  large  arm-chair  in  which  he  was  seated,  and  knelt 
down  by  their  side,  and  encircled  them  both  with  his  fatherly 
arms ;  and,  with  his  venerable  head,  bald  and  gray,  turned 
upward,  and  the  deep  furrows  of  his  old  wrinkled  cheeks 
all  filled  up,  brimfull  and  running  over  from  the  deluge  of 
tears  which  poured  from  his  benignant  eyes — with  his  arms 
thus  around  them  both,  and  his  heart  full  of  gratitude  to  a 
beneficent  God,  he  poured  out  his  thanks  to  heaven  for  the 
restoration  and  recovery  of  those  two  loving  souls,  even  as  a 
kind  father  would  return  thanks  to  Almighty  God  when  his 
children  have  been  raised  up,  almost  by  a  miracle,  from  a 
sick  bed,  which  seemed,  at  one  time,  a  bed  of  death.  And 
Ella  Shelton's  head  then  rested  with  joy  upon  the  shoulder 
of  her  lover,  because  he  was  not  only  sane,  but  converted  to 
God ;  and  the  head  of  Herbert  drooped  also,  because  his 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  367 

great  heart  was  full,  and  it  rested  lightly,  tenderly,  raptur- 
ously upon  the  Madonna-like  head  of  Ella.  0 !  it  was  a 
delightful  spectacle — a  picture  worth  the  skill  of  the  most 
consummate  master. 

When  they  rose  from  their  knees,  there  was  a  degree  of 
peace — a  calm  and  a  peace  "which  the  world  knows  not" — 
in  the  breast  of  each  ;  and  Herbert  felt  happy,  and  Ella  felt 
happy,  and  the  superintendent  seemed  as  happy  as  any  kind 
father  could  be,  whose  prodigal  son  had  returned  home  sane 
and  sound,  that  he  kills  for  him  the  fatted  calf. 

"A  vessel  sails  to-morrow,  my  love.  Let  us  return  home 
and  tell  our  friends — your  mother  and  mine." 

The  superintendent  signified  his  hearty  approbation  of  the 
proposed  arrangement,  and,  the  next  day,  Ella  Shelton  bade 
adieu  to  the  kind  man  who  had  treated  her  as  a  father 
rather  than  as  a  jailor ;  and,  when  she  left  the  Asylum,  she 
expressed  even  regrets  at  being  compelled  to  leave  him,  and 
declared  that,  should  she  ever  visit  the  North,  it  would 
afford  her  infinite  satisfaction  to  see  him  again,  and  assur- 
ing him,  at  the  same  time,  that  should  circumstances  ever 
call  him  to  the  sunny  South,  it  would  be  her  pride  and 
pleasure  not  only  to  offer  him  all  the  hospitalities  of  her 
Southern  home,  but  to  wait  upon  him  herself,  as  an  affec- 
tionate daughter  would  upon  an  invalid  father. 

The  next  day,  Ella  Shelton,  accompanied  by  her  lover, 
as  her  friend  and  rightful  protector,  sailed  for  Charleston, 
in  the  fast-sailing  barque  Estelle.  The  voyage  was  a  de- 
lightful one;  and  no  storms,  but  a  few  calms,  occurred 
during  the  first  week  of  November.  So  they  arrived  in 
safety  at  Charleston,  and  immediately  went  up  to  the  elegant 
residence  of  Mrs.  Herbert,  the  mother  of  Edgar.  And  Mrs. 
Herbert  welcomed  Ella  as  her  own  daughter,  and  looked 
upon  her  with  pride  and  pleasure  ;  and  a  delightful  little 
party  assembled  that  evening,  to  welcome  the  return  of 
Herbert  and  his  affianced  bride. 

Two  days  afterward,  they  started  together — Herbert  and 


368  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER  ;    OR, 

Ella — in  Mrs.  Herbert's  coach,  for  the  up-country,  for  the 
home  of  Mrs.  Shelton,  who  was  anxiously  expecting  the 
arrival  of  her  daughter,  with  joy  in  her  heart,  but  with  anx- 
iety and  sorrow  also,  for  she  was  in  much  distress,  and 
needed  comfort  and  consolation.  Let  us  hasten  on,  in  ad- 
vance of  their  coming,  and  see  what  was  the  cause  of  the 
poor  widow's  distress ;  for,  0 !  has  she  not  been  afflicted 
enough  already?  and  shall  the  waves  of  sorrow  never  cease 
to  roll  over  her  soul?  and  shall  her  eyes  never  turn  away 
from  beholding  trouble  and  sorrow  ? 


THE    AEOLITTONTST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  369 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

S  we  said,  at  the  commencement  of  the  last  chapter, 
Mrs.  Shelton  had  adopted  Fetic  as  her  own  child,  to 
g^  supply,  in  only  a  partial  and  incomplete  degree,  the 
^?      loss  of  her  children,  the  last  of  whom  seemed  to  be 
as  hopelessly  lost  as  the  first,  and  for  whose  death 
she  sometimes  even  prayed  most  fervently.     But,  as  if  to 
rebuke  that  spirit — which  was  none  other  than  the  spirit  of 
murmuring  and  complaint,  a  want  of  faith  and  humble  sub- 
mission to  the  will  of  heaven  ;  for,  so  deceitful  and  desper- 
ately wicked  is  the  human  heart,  that  it  often  murmurs  and 
complains,  even  in  prayer,  and  when  we  think  we  are  hum- 
blest and  lowliest  in  spirit ; — as  if  God  would  rebuke  that 
spirit  of  non-submission  to  his  will,  little  Fetie,  upon  whom 
Mrs.  Shelton's  heart  was  now  set  with  unwavering  attach- 
ment, became  suddenly  ill  with  the  fever.     She  had  never 
been  sick  but  once  before,  and  that  was  in  the  second  year 
of  her  infancy,  when  her  brain  became  so  much  congested 
and  inflamed  that  her  life  was  despaired  of  by  her  physician 
as  well  as  her  friends.     When  she  recovered  from  that  ill- 
ness she  was  stone-blind,  from  a  complete  paralysis  of  the 
optic  nerve,  which,  though  not  a  common  occurrence,  is  by 
no  means  an  isolated  case  of  total  blindness  ensuing  from 
congestion  of  the  brain  near  the  optic  thalamia,  which  gives 
origin  to  the  optic  nerves.     It  is  entirely  through  the  sen- 
sibility of  these  nerves  that  vision  is  regulated  in  the  sound 
and  healthy  eye;    for  the.  retina  is  nothing  more  than  an 
1G* 


370  OLD   TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

expansion  of  the  optic  nerve  itself.  When  light  acts  upon 
the  retina,  in  its  passage  through  the  cornea,  it  acts  as  a 
powerful  stimulus,  which  causes  the  iris  to  contract,  thus 
forming  what  is  called  the  pupil;  and  when  the  light  is 
withdrawn,  or  it  becomes  dark,  the  iris,  or  pupil,  expands, 
and  remains  open  wide,  because  it  is  no  longer  stimulated 
by  light.  Cut  the  optic  nerves  in  two  just  then,  or  paralyze 
them  in  any  way  possible,  and  the  pupil  would  never  con- 
tract any  more  ;  it  would  remain  open  forever,  as  in  the  case 
of  poor  Fetie.  Perhaps,  had  strychnine  been  employed,  in 
minute  doses,  or  the  galvanic  battery,  or  some  other  pow- 
erful agent,  the  optic  nerves,  in  the  case  of  our  blind  girl, 
might  have  been  restored  to  healthy  action,  and  the  pupil 
would  again  have  expanded  and  contracted  as  before.  But 
none  qf  those  agents  had  been  tried,  and,  perhaps,  if  they 
had  been,  might  have  proved  inefficient  remedies  to  over- 
come a  blindness  which  death  alone  could  remove. 

For  fifteen  years  Fetie  had  been  blind ;  for  fifteen  years 
she  had  enjoyed  uninterrupted  health.  But  she  was  sick 
now,  and  destined  never  to  rise  again  from  her  bed.  For 
ten  days  her  fever  had  been  almost  unintermitting;  and,  in 
her  delirium,  she  said  many  wild  and  strange  things.  Mrs. 
Shelton  had  become  uneasy  about  her  from  the  very  first 
symptoms  of  her  fever,  and  had  dispatched  George  for  the 
physician,  and  Young  Toney  for  Fetie's  parents.  As  a 
faithful  nurse,  as  an  own  mother,  Mrs.  Shelton  had  watched 
over  the  dying  girl,  moistening  her  lips  and  bathing  her 
face  with  cool  water,  and  brushing  away  the  flies  with  a 
little  green  bough  from  a  bay -tree.  And  the  tears  would 
silently  trickle  down  her  cheeks,  and  her  chest  would  heave 
with  a  sigh,  as  she  thought  of  her  poor  insane  daughter  in 
the  asylum  at  Philadelphia,  and  of  her  adopted  child  lying 
before  her,  like  a  rose  withering  away  in  its  pristine  beauty, 
and  before  half  its  sweets  had  gore. 

Ten  days  had  Fetie  been  sick  and  wild  with  delirium. 
She  was  taken  on  the  very  day  that  Ella  Shelton  left  the 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-riRATE.  371 

Asylum  and  went  on  board  the  vessel  bound  for  Charleston ; 
and  it  was  on  the  tenth  day  of  her  illness  that  Mrs.  Shel- 
ton  received  the  letter  of  the  superintendent  conveying  the 
joyful  intelligence  that  her  daughter  was  so  near  well  that 
it  was  advisable  that  she  should  be  taken  immediately 
home.  The  overjoyed  mother,  when  she  read  the  letter  to 
herself,  was  so  deeply  affected  by  her  feelings,  that  she  was 
compelled  to  go  to  her  room  and  fall  down  upon  her  knees, 
with  the  letter  spread  out  before  her,  reading  it  thus  in 
fervent,  humble  gratitude,  and  thanking  God,  who,  even  in 
wrath,  had  remembered  mercy ;  for  while  there  were  un- 
mistakable signs  that  he  was  about  to  take  away  her  adopted 
child,  he  had,  in  his  great  goodness,  determined  to  replace 
her  loss  by  the  restoration  of  her  dear  Ella,  whom  she  had 
long  given  up  as  lost  to  her  forever. 

"  0  !  God  !  I  thank  thee  !  Thou  alone  canst  know  how 
much  !  True,  0,  very  true  is  it,  that  '  Thou  wilt  not  always 
chide,  neither  wilt  thou  keep  thine  anger  forever ! ' " 

She  rose  from  her  knees  and  returned  to  her  post  by  the 
bedside  of  the  patient,  if  not  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips, 
at  least  with  a  look  of  mournful  resignation  to  the  will  of 
heaven ;  for  if  she  was  about  to  be  greatly  afflicted,  she  was 
soon  to  be  greatly  blessed  also.  And  is  it  not  even  so, 
although  we  know  it  not,  nor  can  we  see,  at  the  time,  the 
hand  of  Providence  thrust  through  the  dark  clouds  of 
affection  which  conceal  his  face  from  our  view  ?  The  heart 
of  the  Christian  would  wither  and  die,  if,  amid  countless 
blessings,  there  were  no  afflictions  to  humble,  and  chasten, 
and  purify,  and  render  thankful  the  heart  of  the  one  who 
knows  nothing  but  the  joys  and  pleasures  of  prosperity, 
and  never  experiences  the  mournful  pleasures  of  affliction ! 
Mrs.  Shelton  was  thinking  thus  as  she  resumed  her  seat 
by  the  side  of  Fetie,  who  had  been  asleep,  or  rather  in  a 
slumber,  and  now  opened  her  eyes,  which  could  not  see,  and 
reaching  forth  her  hand  to  her  adopted  mother,  said : 

"  Mother !  dearest  mother !  I  am  going  away,  but  I  will 


372  OLD    TONEY    AND    HIS    MASTER;    OR, 

not  leave  you  desolate,  for  sister  Ella  is  coming !  I  have 
seen  her,  mother !     She  is  even  now  on  her  way  home  !  " 

Mrs.  Shelton  was  very  much  surprised  at  the  strange 
coincidence,  but  she  thought  that  it  was  only  another 
of  Fetie's  delirious  fancies ;  and  she  asked,  in  her  mild 
voice : 

"Why  do  you  think  so,  my  child?" 

"  Because  I  have  seen  her,  mother  !  She  is  well  now,  and 
she  is  coming  home  !  0  !  that  God  would  hasten  her  coming, 
that  I  might  grasp  her  hand  and  feel  her  warm  embrace 
once  more  before  I  shall  go  to  sleep  in  the  arms  of  Jesus ! 
Mother,  I  regret  very  much  to  leave  you,  who  have  been  so 
kind  to  the  poor  blind  girl ;  but  my  place  will  be  better 
filled,  mother !  filled  by  your  own  natural  daughter ;  for 
God  only  loaned  me  to  you,  mother,  until  sister  Ella  got 
well ;  and  now  I  want  to  go,  mother !  I  want  to  go  to 
Jesus,  who  is  calling  me  every  hour,  and  telling  me,  in  a 
still,  small  voice,  '  Come  to  me,  Fetie !  come,  poor  blind 
girl,  where  there  is  light ! '  0  !  mother !  in  heaven  the 
blind  girl  shall  see,  and  be  blind  no  longer !  Yes,  shall  see 
beautiful  flowers  and  ambrosial  fruit,  and  a  sea  of  glass,  and 
rivers  of  life,  and  tall  trees  with  broad  branches  and  ever- 
green boughs,  beneath  whose  cool  shade  angels,  bright 
angels,  are  ever  walking  and  talking  with  the  glorious  Savior, 
in  the  spirit-land  !  O,  won't  it  be  delightful,  mother?  And, 
after  a  while,  I  shall  see  you  there,  mother,  and  my  sister 
Ella  also,  and  my  own  dear  mother  and  my  father,  I  hope ; 
and  my  little  brother  and  sisters,  and  old  daddy  Toney ! 
and  every  body  I  hope,  walking  in  green  pastures  and 
beneath  shady  groves,  and  sitting  down  by  the  side  of  cool 
waters,  and  drinking,  drinking,  ever  drinking  at  the  cool 
fountain  which  shall  never  go  dry  !  " 

And  she  talked  herself  to  sleep  ;  and  Mrs.  Shelton  listened 
and  wondered.  When  Fetie  opened  her  eyes  again,  she 
said,  joyously  : 

"  They  are  coming,  mother !   I  have  seen  them  !     They 


THE   ABOLITIONIST    AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  373 

are  coming  in  a  carriage  ;  and  the  carriage  is  coming  nearer 
and  yet  nearer  !     I  see  theni  now  !  " 

"  Whom  do  you  see,  my  child?"  said  Mrs.  Shelton,  lean- 
ing over  the  blind  girl. 

"  Sister  Ella  and  Mr.  Herbert,"  was  the  reply  of  Fetie. 
"  They  are  coming,  mother,  in  a  carriage,  and  the  horses 
look  as  though  they  were  fleet  horses,  and  they  move  fast 
over  the  level  road  !  " 

In  a  little  while  Fetie  dropped  into  an  uneasy  slumber, 
as  before,  muttering  words  which  no  one  could  hear.  And 
Mrs.  Shelton  wondered  if  it  were  indeed  true  that  a  clair- 
voyant spirit  is  possessed  by  some  persons,  to  enable  them 
to  look  into  the  future,  or  to  see  objects  far  beyond  the 
range  of  human  vision ;  and  wondering,  also,  if  the  blind 
or  the  dying  may  not  be  thus  endowed  with  supernatural 
power  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  other  mortals ;  or,  if  at 
last  it  were  not  the  result  of  a  disordered  imagination  in 
unison  with  unaccountable  coincidences. 

But  before  she  could  end  her  conjectures,  or  attempt  to 
analyze  and  compare  the  various  theories  or  wild  vagaries 
which  have  been  written  upon  the  subject  of  somnambulism 
and  clairvoyance,  she  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  carriage- 
wheels  rolling  up  the  avenue  leading  from  the  public  road ; 
and  Fetie,  starting  again  from  her  slumbers,  exclaimed  joy- 
ously : 

"  They  are  coming,  mother ;  they  are  nearly  here  now ! 
0,  how  happy  I  shall  be  to  see  my  dear  sister  Ella  before 
I  die  !     God  has,  indeed,  heard  my  prayer  !  " 

And  Mrs.  Shelton,  answering  her  not  a  word,  dropped 
the  green  bay-bush  from  her  hand,  and  ran  out  of  the  sick 
chamber  with  tottering  footsteps,  her  whole  frame  tremb- 
ling, and  her  knees  almost  giving  way  as  she  ran  toward 
the  carriage  which  had  already  stopped  at  the  little  garden 
gate.  Then  the  mother  and  the  daughter  were  locked  in  each 
others'  arms,  weeping  and  laughing  with  joy ;  and  the  arms 
of  Herbert  were  thrown  around  them  both,  to  sustain  them 


374  OLD  TONEY   AND    HIS    MASTER  j    OR, 

in  their  weakness,  lest  they  should  both  fall  to  the  ground, 
but  his  man's  heart,  strong,  as  he  might  think  it,  and  steel 
it  against  emotion  as  he  would,  gave  way  also,  and  his  head 
drooped  over  them,  and  then  shook  and  trembled  as  his 
broad  chest  heaved  as  the  sea 'when  it  is  joyous  only;  and 
as  his  eyes  witnessed  the  great  and  inexpressible  joy  of  that 
daughter  and  that  mother  in  whom  he  was  so  deeply  in- 
terested, his  cheeks  were  wet  with  tears,  which  fell  like 
rain-drops  upon  their  heads,  and  baptized  them  both  with 
his  love. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  the  grateful  and  overjoyed 
mother  could  recover  her  strength  sufficiently  to  raise  her 
head  from  her  daughter's  shoulder,  and  when  she  did  so, 
she  said,  with  her  eyes  upturned  to  heaven : 

"0,  Ella!  very  true  is  it,  as  that  wonderful  bard  hath 
said,  '  God  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb ;'  for,  in  the 
midst  of  death  there  is  life." 

"Is  any  one  ill,  mother?"  asked  Ella,  anxiously. 

"  Yes,  my  child  ;  you  must  prepare  your  mind,  so  lately 
restored,  to  bear  the  sad  affliction  which,  I  greatly  fear,  will 
soon  come  upon  us.  Poor  Fetie  is  very  ill,  my  daughter. 
She  has  talked  a  great  deal  about  you  ;  and,  but  a  little 
while  ago,  she  declared  that  you  were  coming,  in  a  carriage, 
and  that  Herbert  was  with  you.  Is  it  not  strange  ?  Truly 
the  blind  can  see  more  clearly  sometimes  than  those  whose 
sight  has  never  been  impaired." 

They  delayed  no  longer  in  the  garden,  and  Ella  went 
with  her  mother  and  Herbert,  into  the  house ;  and  as  she 
walked  up  to  the  bedside,  Fetie  fairly  screamed  with  delight, 
and  sat  up  straight  in  the  bed,  and  leaned  over  the  bedside, 
and  seemed  as  if  she  would  have  leaped  into  the  arms  of 
her  dear  friend  and  adopted  sister.  She  would  have  fallen 
from  the  bed  to  the  floor  if  Ella  had  not  stepped  forward 
so  quickly,  and  caught  her  in  her  arms.  Then  Fetie,  with 
her  arms  around  the  neck  -of  Ella  Shelton,  fell  back  upon 
her  pillow,  and  held  her  adopted  sister  clasped  to  her  bosom, 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  375 

while  Ella,  who  had  previously  pulled  off  her  bonnet,  rested 
her  cheek  upon  the  fevered,  burning  cheek  of  the  dying 
girl,  and  shed  tears  of  joy,  and  of  sorrow  also.     And  the 
tears  of  Ella  Shelton,  as  they  trickled  down  upon  the  face 
of  the  patient,  seemed  to  cool,  like  rain,  her  fever,  and  she 
sunk  into  a  gentle  slumber,  with  her  arms  still  about  the 
neck  of  her  dear  sister  Ella.     But,  by-and-by,  her  arms  re- 
laxed their  hold,  and  she  sunk  down  more  deeply  into  her 
pillow  in  slumber  ;  and  Ella  rose  up  very  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously, as  a  mother  who  has  patted  and  sung  her  infant  to 
sleep,  and  fears  to  move  too  rashly,  lest  it  shall  be  waked 
by  her  movements.     Thus  noiselessly  did  Ella  rise  up  from 
that  embrace,  and  sat  down  in  the  same  arm-chair  in  which 
Mrs.  Shelton  had  been  seated,  for  ten  days,  with  the  bay- 
bush  in  her  hand,  brushing  away  the  flies  as  they  alighted 
upon  the  face  of  the  blind  girl,  who  lay  in  unrest  upon  her 
fevered  couch. 

Once  again  Fetie  opened  her  eyes,  after  sleeping  for  a 
half  hour  or  more,  but  her  eyes  seemed  different,  and  her 
countenance  wore  an  expression  it  had  never  worn  before ; 
for  her  countenance  seemed  radiant  with  glory,  and  her  eyes 
shone  and  sparkled  with  intelligence,  and  there  was  a  look 
of  rapturous  sight  in  them.  And  she  held  out  her  hands 
toward  Ella,  and  exclaimed,  joyously,  "Am  I  indeed  in 
heaven?  and  do  I  see  a  beautiful  angel— but  an  angel  with- 
out wings?" 

"No,  Fetie,"  said  Ella,  with  a  sweet  smile— her  old  smile 
of  love,  "  you  are  not  in  heaven,  and  it  is  only  me  whom 

you  see." 

"  0  !  how  beautiful  you  are  !  Could  an  angel  with  wings 
be  more  beautiful  ?  Sister  Ella,  I  am  dying  ;  and  I  thought 
that  the  poor  blind  girl  would  never  see  until  she  reached 
heaven,  and  saw  her  Jesus  first,  But,  in  his  great  love,  he 
has  permitted  me  to  see  you  first,  and  to  look,  for  a  little 
while—just  a  little  while — upon  the  beauties  of  earth,  lest 
the  "-lories  of  heaven  should  bewilder  and  dazzle  me  so  that 


376  OLD    TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

the  heaven-born  sight  would  leave  me  wrapped  in  eternal 
mist  and  darkness.  0  !  sister  Ella !  I  can  see  !  Look !  I 
can  see  !  The  blind  begins  to  see  before  she  gets  near 
enough  to  look  upon  '  the  city  of  our  God,'  and  to  see 
'  the  lamb  slain  for  sinners '  seated  upon  his  great  white 
throne!1' 

Ella  Shelton  leaned  over  the  dying  girl,  and  looked  down 
into  her  eyes.  The  pupils  were  no  longer  stretched  wide, 
as  they  always  had  been  before,  and  the  optic  nerve  was 
no  more  paralyzed.  Other  patients  die  differently,  with  the 
eyelids  parting  wider  and  wider,  and  the  pupils  becoming 
more  and  more  expanded,  until  the  eyes  are  fixed,  and  glar- 
ing, and  glazed.  But,  in  the  case  of  our  blind  girl,  the  very 
reverse  of  this  was  true ;  for  her  eyelids  drooped  lower  and 
lower,  and  her  pupils  became  more  and  more  contracted, 
by  the  contracting  power  of  sub-acute  inflammation  of  the 
brain ;  just  as  when  a  ray  of  light,  of  increasing  intensity, 
is  slowly  and  steadily  let  into  the  chambers  of  the  eye. 
And  when  death  was  just  at  hands,  the  lids  became  closed, 
as  in  sleep,  and  the  pupils  became  contracted  and  drawn  up 
tightly,  as  a  bag  whose  open  mouth  has  been  closed  by 
drawing  slowly,  steadily,  upon  the  string. 

When  Ella  had  looked,  for  several  moments,  into  Fetie's 
eyes,  she  exclaimed,  joyously — for  she  thought  the  restora- 
tion— the  temporary  restoration — of  sight,  was  a  favorable 
symptom — "  0  mother  !  "  said  she  ;   "  come  here,  mother  !  " 

Mrs.  Shelton  leaned  over  the  bed  from  the  other  side ; 
and  when  she  looked  into  Fetie's  eyes,  she  knew  that  her 
darling,  adopted  child  was  blind  no  longer;  but  she  knew, 
also,  that  it  could  be  no  favorable  symptom,  for  great  drops 
of  cold  and  clammy  sweat  stood  upon  her  marble  brow,  like 
cold  dew  upon  a  white  rosebud.  And  her  fever  was  gone, 
and  there  was  no  longer  a  trace  of  delirium,  but  her  face 
was  lighted  up  with  intelligence  and  with  love. 

Slowly  the  pupils  contracted,  tighter  and  tighter,  until 
the  pupil  seemed  as  though  it  had  never  been  ;  and  the  light 


THE    ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  377 

which  had  been  let  into  the  chambers  of  those  eyes,  for  a 
little  while,  was  shut  in,  never  to  be  let  out  again  from  those 
windows  of  the  soul.  It  was  the  only  light  which  had  ever 
entered,  or  had  ever  been  retained,  by  those  sightless  eye- 
balls, for  fifteen  years  of  total  blindness.  And  her  soul,  as 
if  jealous  of  that  light,  and  as  if  needing  all  its  rays  to 
light  it  on  its  way  from  earth  to  heaven,  pulled  down  the 
curtain  to  hide,  from  the  eyes  of  another,  the  lantern  which 
God,  with  unseen  hand,  had  thrust  in  at  the  window.  Si- 
lently and  noiselessly  the  spirit  of  the  blind  girl,  blind  now 
no  more,  took  its  flight  from  that  chamber  of  death.  Her 
pupils  opened  never  more  to  let  in  or  out  any  more  light; 
and  her  eyelids  remained  closed,  that  her  friends  did  not 
have  to  press  them  down  with  their  fingers,  nor  place  pieces 
of  money  upon  them,  to  prevent  her  eye-balls  from  glaring, 
as  a  corpse,  upon  her  friends. 

And  they  buried  Fetie  by  the  side  of  Colonel  Shelton  ;  and 
Ella  planted  roses  around  her  grave,  and  watered  them  with 
her  tears,  and  then  went  away  with  her  mother  to  Charles- 
ton, the  bride  of  Mr.  Herbert,  who  soothed  her  with  kindest 
caresses,  and  bade  her  affectionately  and  tenderly  "  not  to 
mourn  as  those  who  have  no  hope." 

And  Mr.  Herbert  sold  the  farm  for  much  more  than 
Colonel  Shelton  gave ;  and  neither  Mrs.  Shelton  nor  Mrs. 
Herbert  desired  again  to  look  upon  a  spot  where  they  had 
experienced  so  much  sorrow  and  suffering.  And  Old  Toney 
and  his  family  were  carried  to  Charleston,  where  they  were 
as  faithful  to  their  young,  as  they  had  been  to  their  old, 
master,  although  their  old  affection  and  reverence  for  the 
memory  of  the  brave  old  hero  could  never  be  extinguished, 
save  in  death.  And  although  their  employments  were  all 
different,  and  varied  in  their  character,  and  although  they 
were  now  as  happy  as  mortals  could  well  be,  in  the  queen 
city  of  the  South — seeing,  every  d;iy,  their  "  dear,  good 
Masser  Herbert,"'  and  beholding  their  old  and  their  young 
mistress  in  the  elegant  home  to  which   Herbert  had  con- 


378  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 

ducted  theni — a  home  of  elegance,  in  which  these  faithful 
servants  felt  even  more  pride  than  did  the  actual  owners ; 
and  notwithstanding  their  happy  lots,  and  the  new  comforts 
with  which  they  were  surrounded,  and  the  fish,  and  the 
oysters,  and  the  many  positive  luxuries  which  they  enjoyed, 
and  the  new  dignity  to  which  they  had  been  elevated,  from 
"  country  to  city  niggers  " — still  they  would  sometimes  cast 
their  eyes,  with  longing,  lingering  gaze,  toward  the  "  up- 
country  ;  "  and,  as  the  cow  lowing  for  its  old  range,  they 
would  sigh  for  the  dear,  old  homestead  where  Colonel  Shel- 
ton  used  to  live  in  the  days  of  his  wealth  and  glory,  and 
wish  that  they  could  live  over  those  happy  days  again ;  for, 
"as  the  deer  pants  after  the  rivers,  and  the  hart  after  the 
water-brooks,"  so  the  negro  longs  to  look  upon  the  scenes 
to  which  he  has  been  accustomed — unless  he  has  been  de- 
naturalized— although  the  spot  of  his  nativity  has  become 
a  desert  or  a  barren  wilderness,  and  although  the  palace, 
upon  whose  outward  show  they  gazed  with  pride,  may  have 
tottered  from  its  foundations  and  fallen  in  ruins,  and  the 
cabin  in  which  they  dwelt  themselves  has  become  a  miser- 
able hovel,  or  tumbled  into  decay. 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE    LAND-PIRATE.  379 


CHAPTER  IX. 

UT  the  reader,  perhaps,  would  like  to  know  something 
of  the  after  history  of  those  who  have  figured  so 
s2£)  larA'ebr5  or  *e*ed  such  important  parts,  in  this  drama ; 
&*  and  to  gratify  their  very  natural  curiosity,  we  will  tell 
them  all  that  we  know  in  these  two  last  chapters — 
reserving  the  last  for  Old  Toney  and  others  in  whose  wel- 
fare we  feel  most  interested. 

And  first,  then,  in  reference  to  Alfred  Orton  and  his  chil- 
dren :  When  Margaret,  the  Irish  girl,  had  waited  full  three 
weeks  for  the  return  of  her  mistress,  and  knew  that  she 
would  return  never  more,  and  not  until  she  had  heard  that 
her  mistress  was  dead,  did  she  consent  to  give  up  the  chil- 
dren of  Mrs.  Orton,  and  turn  them  over  to  their  rightful 
guardians,  their  grandparents  in  Salem.  But  little  Johnny, 
who  was  a  bastard,  had  no  grandfather  or  grandmother, 
since,  in  law,  he  was  not  recognized  as  the  son  of  Alfred 
Orton — little  Johnny,  who  had  no  one  to  look  to  for  pro- 
tection and  support,  was  turned  over  to  that  most  humane 
of  all  human  institutions,  the  Orphan  Asylum  in  Boston. 

And  his  poor  mother,  that  once  lair  and  virtuous  girl, 
but  now  abandoned  woman,  perished  in  the  hospital,  dying 
that  lingering  and  horrid  death  which  all  women  of  her  lost 
and  abandoned  character  die,  unless  they  have  been  de- 
stroyed by  the  hand  of  violence. 

And  Alfred  Orton — what  became  of  him,  and  whither 
did  he  flee?     Ah,  yes!    whither!    whither  could   he  flee? 


380  OLD  TONEY  AND  HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

Not  to  Boston,  for  lie  feared  that  even  the  "  Emporium  of 
Literature"  would  be  too  hot  a  place  for  him,  and  that 
there  was  no  corner  there,  or  in  New  England,  where  he 
could  hold  up  his  head.  Not  to  Philadelphia,  for  he  had 
read  an  advertisement  in  the  newspapers  describing  his  per- 
son, and  offering  a  reward  for  his  capture,  as  the  supposed 
murderer  of  Mrs.  Orton.  And  everywhere  he  went,  con- 
science, wide  awake  and  dressed  in  all  her  horrors,  with  her 
scorpion-lash  in  hand,  was  lashing  his  soul  into  madness, 
and  urging  him  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  desert  and  the 
wilderness,  where  he  hoped  the  foot  of  a  white  man  would 
never  tread.  And  as  he  went  further  and  further,  the  echoes 
of  that  pistol  still  reverberated  in  his  ears,  and  he  fancied 
that  his  own  hand  had  indeed  pulled  the  trigger  which  had 
sent  the  ball  through  the  broken  heart  of  his  poor,  abused, 
cheated,  and  neglected  wife. 

And  then  he  heard  the  dying  moans  of  poor  Fanny,  dying 
in  the  portico  of  the  temple  from  the  bitter  cold  and  the 
throes  of  premature  labor ;  for  he  had  read  the  account  of 
her  death  in  the  papers,  and  his  own  guilty  heart  told  him 
how  deeply  implicated  he  was  in  the  death  of  the  once 
happy  and  virtuous  slave. 

But  as  he  went  further,  and  fled  faster,  he  heard  the  deep- 
baying  of  the  hounds  pursuing  his  trail,  and  their  scratching 
at  his  door,  and  their  eager  whining  for  his  blood,  and,  in 
disordered  imagination,  he  sprang  forward,  with  terror,  to 
elude  the  leap  of  the  blood-hound,  which,  he  fancied,  was 
close  upon  his  heels,  and  felt  the  teeth  of  old  Towzer  sink 
deep  into  his  arm,  and  heard  again  the  craunching  of  the 
blood-hound  upon  his  shoulder.  And  then  he  trembled  all 
over,  like  a  man  shaking  with  the  palsy,  as  he  remembered 
the  voice  of  Old  Sampson,  and  his  solemn  words,  echoed  by 
Old  Toney,  saying,  "  Vengeance  is  mine  ;  T  will  repay,  saith 
the  Lord;"  and  "  Gro  Mass'  Orton;  you  are  in  de  hand  ob 
de  Lord  now  ;  you  will  fall  in  de  lake  !  de  lake  !  " 

But  if  he  was  affected  so  deeply  by  all  these  voices  of  the 


THE  ABOLITIONIST  AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  381 

guilty  past,  which  terrified  him  as  the  ghost  of  Banquo 
and  the  other  murdered  spirits  terrified  the  guilty  monarch 
who  sat  upon  Scotland's  blood-stained  throne,  Alfred  Orton 
positively  shrieked  aloud,  as  he  fancied  that  he  heard  still  the 
screams  of  the  poor  maniac  girl  ringing  through  the  frosty 
night  air,  and  waking  the  deep  silence  of  the  forest  in  the 
old  Palmetto  State,  calling,  as  a  trumpet,  her  sons  to  arms, 
and  urging  even  good  and  peaceful  men  to  revenge  the  out- 
rage and  attack — though  baffled — upon  the  honor  of  one  of 
Carolina's  fairest  and  loveliest  daughters. 

But,  although  terrible  as  the  reality  to  a  guilty  conscience, 
it  was  but  a  fancied  reality.  It  was  the  beginning  of  the 
worm's  gnawings  in  Alfred  Orton's  heart.  "  The  worm 
which  never  dies  "  had  burst  forth  from  its  chrysalis  shell, 
and  was  now  tumbling  and  tumbling,  over  and  over,  in  his 
black  heart;  and  as  the  hideous  worm  rolled  from  side  to 
side,  how  his  guilty  heart  began  to  bleed,  and  to  fester,  and 
to  ache  !  "  The  worm  that  never  dies  "  was  just  born  in 
him,  and  was  only  trying  its  infant  teeth ;  talcing  hold  here 
and  there,  and  letting  go  its  hold  again;  and  then,  as  its 
young  life  grew  more  vigorous,  driving  its  growing,  sharpen- 
ing, dreadful  teeth  deeper  and  deeper  in  that  heart  which, 
though  it  seemed  like  stone,  could  feel  as  a  guilty  heart  of 
the  flesh!  By  and  by,  "the  worm  that  never  dies,"  which 
has  been  born,  and  which  will  grow  to  a  monster  worm,  until 
it  fills  up  full  all  the  dark,  dismal,  foul  and  loathsome  cav- 
ity of  Alfred  Orton's  heart,  by  and  by,  it  shall  take  fresh 
hold — an  eternal  hold — upon  a  core  which",  like  the  worm, 
"  never  dies  !  " 

And  Alfred  Orton  went  on  and  on,  pursued  thus  by  his 
own  guilty  conscience,  which  followed  him  as  a  hell-hound 
wherever  he  went,  until,  at  last,  he  stood  upon  the  shore  of 
Lake  Michigan.  It  was  in  the  latter  part  of  October,  or 
the  first  week  in  November,  and  only  a  thin  crust  of  ice  was 
yet  upon  the  surface  of  the  lake.  But  as  Alfred  Orton 
walked    by  the  shore,  and  as  he  remembered   the   solemn 


382  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

tones  of  Old  Sampson,  saying  to  Old  Toney,  "  Let  liim  go, 
for  God  hath  said,  'Vengeance  is  mine;  I  will  repay,  saith 
the  Lord,'  "  then  he  himself  echoed,  in  reply,  the  words  of 
Old  Toney,  "  De  lake  !  de  lake  ob  fire  and  brimstone  !  " 

And  he  looked  upon  the  frozen  lake,  and  wished  that  he 
was  buried  deep,  deep  under  its  cold  surface,  where  he 
hoped  the  fires  of  hell  could  never  reach  him,  unless  they 
licked  up  first  the  waters  of  Lake  Michigan !  but  he  was 
afraid  to  take  the  leap,  for  the  hot  flames  of  hell  had  not 
come  near  enough  as  yet,  although  he  was  beginning  to  feel 
their  hot  breath,  and  to  hear  the  crackling  of  the  flames 
rolling,  as  a  prairie  on  fire,  down  upon  him  !  So  he  took 
from  his  overcoat  a  flask  half-filled  with  brandy,  and  from  his 
vest  pocket  a  little  vial  containing  a  white  powder.  The 
powder  he  poured  into  the  flask,  which  he  shook  violently, 
until  he  supposed  that  the  poison  was  dissolved.  Then  he 
put  the  flask  to  his  lips,  and  drank  down,  at  a  few  gulps,  all 
the  brandy,  which  was  made  bitter — very  bitter  with  strych- 
nine. He  went  down  to  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and,  with 
the  flask,  attempted  to  break  a  hole  in  the  ice,  that  he  might 
relieve  his  taste  of  the  bitterness  of  the  strychnine  ;  but  the 
flask  broke  upon  the  ice  as  soon  as  the  ice  was  broken,  and 
the  fragments  of  the  flask  sunk  noiselessly  to  the  bottom  of 
the  lake.  He  took  in  his  hand  several  pieces  of  the  frozen 
water,  and  ground  them,  with  frenzied  energy,  between  his 
teeth,  and  commenced  pacing  rapidly  up  and  down  by  the 
level  shore,  like  a  man  in  great  mental  anguish.  When 
several  minutes  had  elapsed,  and  he  had  eaten  up  all  the 
ice  which  he  carried  in  his  hand,  he  went  to  the  same  spot 
where  he  had  broken  the  flask  and  got  more  ice,  which 
he  craunched  with  yet  more  energy,  and  tried,  in  vain,  to 
get  rid  of  the  bitterness  of  the  strychnine ;  but  the  bitter 
taste  of  the  terrible  poison  seemed  to  have  gone  deep  into 
his  tongue,  and  to  have  steeped  his  palate  as  in  gall  and 
wormwood,  and  he  began  to  feel  the  pains  and  the  cramps, 
the  dreadful  contortions  and  terrific  death-throes  of  strych- 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  383 

nine,  bowing  his  body  backward,  and  drawing  bis  bead  and 
heels  together,  in  spite  of  his  resistance,  like  a  strong  cord 
binding  down,  in  spite  of  its  toughness,  the  full-grown  and 
sturdy  sapling.  Then  Alfred  Orton  felt  that  the  fires  of 
hell  were  beginning  to  smoke  and  to  crackle,  to  blaze  and 
to  roar,  as  a  mighty  conflagration  within  him.  And  in  his 
agony  he  cried  out,  "The  lake!  the  lake!"  even  as  Old 
Toney  had  done,  who  meant,  however,  "  the  lake  of  fire  and 
brimstone,"  and  not  the  Lake  Michigan. 

It  was  when  he  felt  the  contortions  and  the  spasms  of 
strychnine  strongest  upon  him,  that  Alfred  Orton,  the 
Abolitionist,  leaped  into  the  frozen  lake,  which  was  broken 
through  by  the  weight  of  his  body,  which  sunk  down  through 
the  hole  in  the  ice  to  the  bottom  of  Lake  Michigan  ;  but  his 
soul — the  immortal  soul  of  the  suicide,  all  stained  with 
crime,  and  tormented,  before  its  time,  with  the  flames  and  the 
pains  of  perdition,  sunk  down,  down,  down,  and  yet  deeper 
down,  into  the  lowest  depths  of  the  bottomless  pit,  with  an 
infinite  ocean  of  fire,  whose  waves,  hot  and  burning,  would 
ever  roll,  and  surge,  and  hiss,  and  roar,  above  his  guilty 
head  and  his  damned-forever  spirit ! 

When  the  spring  came,  and  the  ice  had  broken  up,  the 
body  of  Alfred  Orton  floated  to  the  surface,  fresh,  or  unin- 
jured, to  any  great  degree,  by  decomposition ;  and  his  head 
and  his  heels  were  still  drawn  together,  even  as  he  had  fallen 
into  the  lake.  There  were  some  who  charitably  supposed  that 
he  had  been  accidentally  drowned,  or,  perhaps,  murdered  ; 
but  a  physician  of  intelligence,  who  arrived  upon  the  spot, 
said  :  "  Gentlemen,  that  man  has  come  to  his  end  by  strych- 
nine, and  in  no  other  way."  Then  they  searched  his  pockets, 
and  there  was  a  little  vial  found  in  one  of  them,  upon  which 
was  labelled  "strychnia;"  so  they  all  felt  satisfied  that 
Alfred  Orton  had  died  by  his  own  hand,  and  that  he  had 
committed  the  shameful  act,  the  monstrous  crime  of  suicide  ! 

Many  years  after  the  death  of  Alfred  Orton,  Stephen 
Stevens  died  the  death  of  a  felon  upon  the  gallows.     But 


384  OLD   TONEY   AND   HIS  MASTER;    OR, 

he  did  not  die  by  the  verdict  of  a  regularly  constituted 
judge  and  jury,  for  he  suffered  the  terrors  of  what  is  com- 
monly called  "  lynch  law."  So  notorious  had  he  become  as 
a  highway  robber,  and  as  the  bold  leader  of  a  cohort  of 
that  apparently  disbanded,  but  not,  in  reality,  disorganized 
corps  of  banditti,  known  as  the  "  Murrel  Band,"  or  "  Mur- 
rel  Gang;"  and  so  repeated  had  been  his  depredations 
amid  a  peaceful  and  prosperous  community  of  one  of  our 
most  peaceful  and  inoffensive  Southern  States,  that  the  in- 
dignant citizens  determined,  at  a  regular  meeting,  to  take 
the  law  into  their  own  hands,  and  punish  Stevens  and  his 
companions  whenever  they  could  lay  hands  upon  them  within 
the  limits  of  their  jurisdiction. 

It  was  useless,  they  thought,  to  cast  those  robbers  into 
jail  to  await  in  prison  their  trial  at  a  regular  term  of  the 
court;  for  there  was  no  jail  which  could  hold  them,  since 
they  had  friends  enough  outside,  who  would  always,  as  they 
had  repeatedly  done,  effect  their  liberation  or  escape,  either 
by  force,  or  by  craft  and  cunning. 

The  citizens  of  an  outraged  community,  therefore,  adver- 
tised a  reward  of  one  thousand  dollars  for  the  capture  and 
delivery  into  their  hands  of  Stevens,  the  notorious  robber- 
chieftain  of  a  robber-band.  Stevens  saw  that  advertisement, 
and  read  it  in  the  papers  of  another  State,  and  yet  still 
lingered  near,  instead  of  fleeing  in  time,  and  hiding  himself 
in  the  gorges  of  the  loftiest  mountain,  or  losing  himself  in 
some  distant  valley.  Fool  that  he  was  ;  he  had  better  have 
fled  to  the  wilds  of  Texas,  and  dwelt  among  the  savage 
Camanches,  than  to  risk  his  head  when  a  reward  of  a  thou- 
sand dollars  was  upon  it!  But  though  the  rope  may  be 
never  so  long,  and  the  villain's  range  never  so  wide,  when 
God's  strong  hand  is  laid  upon  the  cord,  and  when  He  begins 
to  pull  in,  hand  over  hand,  the  victim  as  a  sacrifice  to  just- 
tice,  there  is  no  chance  for  his  escape.  The  fisherman 
may  never  once  pull  upon  his  line,  and  may  let  out  his 
reel  until  the  salmon  is  tired,  and  can  swim  no  longer ;  but 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  385 

by  and  by,  the  reel  is  slowly  and  steadily  wound  up  by  the 
expert  hand  of  the  fisherman,  and  the  salmon  is  pulled  to 
the  shore  with  scarcely  any  resistance,  and  often  not  a  single 
flounder.  So,  too,  does  God  suffer  the  felon  to  be  caught 
in  a  snare,  or  become  fastened  to  a  hook,  and  then  he  is 
pulled  to  the  gallows,  or  he  rushes  thither  himself. 

There  were  two  men  who  had  noticed  the  advertisement, 
and  who  resolved  together  upon  the  capture  of  Stevens,  that 
they  might  claim  the  reward.  They  knew  that  he  was  then 
stopping  at  a  house  not  many  miles  away.  So  they  started 
at  night,  with  well-trained  hounds,  and  arrived,  after  mid- 
night, at  the  house  where  Stevens  then  was.  No  sooner 
did  he  hear  the  barking  of  the  dogs  and  the  steps  of  men 
approaching  the  house,  than  his  guilty  conscience  told  him 
they  had  come  for  him,  and  in  his  terror  he  leaped  from 
the  window  and  fled  in  his  night-clothes.  But  he  might  as 
well  hope  to  escape  the  bite  of  the  cobra  da  capello,  once  it 
has  coiled  thrice  around  his  arm,  as  hope  to  escape  now  the 
avengers  of  blood.  In  an  instant  the  dogs  were  in  full  cry 
after  the  fugitive,  and  Stevens  was  compelled  to  climb  a 
tree  to  escape  being  torn  to  pieces  by  the  sharp  teeth  of 
the  blood-hounds.  "  The  coon  was  treed,"  and  the  fox  was 
caught  at  last  in  his  hole. 

But  Stevens  was  not  yet  without  hope.  At  the  very  first 
town  through  which  he  was  carried  by  his  captors,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  inducing  a  lawyer  to  undertake  his  release.  The 
humane  attorney,  actuated,  perhaps,  as  much  by  that  spirit 
of  chivalry  and  generous  sympathy  which,  it  is  said,  actuates 
the  high-minded  of  the  legal  profession,  or  that  blind  sub- 
mission to  the  "  Lex  scripta^  rather  than  to  the  spirit  and 
intention  of  both  written  and  unwritten  law,  whose  legiti- 
mate object  is  to  punish  the  guilty,  and  aid  the  innocent  to 
escape,  thus  affording  a  double  protection  to  society,  and 
with  the  lawyer's  very  laudable  hatred  of  everything  whicl} 
looks  like,  or  which  tends  to  strengthen  the  mobocratic 
spirit,  which  is  the  greatest  tyranny  and  most  intolerable 
17 


386  OLD   TONEY    AND   HIS   MASTER  j    OR, 

oppression  which  can  afflict  any  people ;  actuated,  perhaps, 
by  such  motives  as  these,  rather  than  the  liberal  fee  which 
Stevens  could  afford  so  easily  to  pay,  out  of  his  ill-gotten 
gains,  the  humane  attorney  was  induced  to  undertake  the 
case  of  the  highwayman,  and  actually  had  him  set  at  liberty 
under  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus.  But  although  the  act  of 
habeas  corpus  is,  rightly  considered,  the  great  bulwark  of  a 
freeman  when  his  liberty  is  unjustly  invaded,  and  with  this 
act  in  his  hand,  and  his  home  for  his  castle,  he  may  defy 
"the  sheriff  and  his  posse  comitatus"  not  so  with  the  out- 
law, who  has  no  right  to  demand  a  habeas  corpus,  and  no 
home  which  he  can  call  his  castle,  and  no  domestic  altar 
where  he  may  throw  himself,  and  even  where,  with  his  hand 
upon  the  very  "  horns  of  the  altar,"  he  may  justly  be  slain; 
with  such  men  as  were  his  captors,  stern  and  inflexible,  and 
themselves  invincible  in  their  determination  and  their  might, 
no  castle  was  strong  enough  to  hold  him,  and  all  the  acts 
for  relief  in  the  world  would  be  set  aside  as  idle  forms  and 
mocking  ceremonies. 

No  sooner,  therefore,  was  the  back  of  the  attorney  turned, 
and  he  had  pocketed  his  fat  fee  with  an  inward  chuckle  of 
delight  and  satisfaction,  and  no  sooner  had  the  judge  who 
had  granted  the  habeas  corpus  returned  to  his  home,  or  was 
at  a  safe  distance,  than  Stevens,  who  thought  himself  safe 
from  further  molestation,  was  again  "  nabbed,"  or  "  grabbed," 
or  "kidnapped,"  and  hurried  on  a  captive  between  two 
resolute  and  determined  men,  from  whose  grasp  he  felt  cer- 
tain now  that  he  could  not  hope  to  escape,  unless  by  some 
unforeseen  accident,  or  the  performance  of  a  miracle  ;  and  he 
felt  that  a  miracle  was  not  likely  to  be  performed  in  his 
behalf,  nor  could  he  imagine  any  accident  which  could 
happen.  Once  across  "the  line,"  and  once  in  the  hands 
of  "the  avengers,"  Stevens  gave  up  all  hope,  and  resigned 
himself  passively  to  his  fate  ;  he  did  not  blame  his  captors  for 
doing  as  he  would  have  done  himself,  under  similar  circum- 
stances, and  acknowledged  the  justice  of  the  sentence  which 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIRATE.  387 

condemned  him  to  death.  On  the  gallows,  which  had  been 
erected  for  his  especial  benefit  or  execution,  just  "  upon  the 
line  "  where  two  states  meet,  he  confessed  to  the  murder  at 
the  "Jasper  Spring/'  and  to  many  other  horrid  crimes. 
But  he  had  not  time  to  mention  all  his  diabolical  acts,  for 
the  avengers  were  in  a  hurry,  as  they  knew  not  how  soon 
a  determined  effort  might  be  attempted  for  his  rescue,  nor 
how  many  secret  banditti  stood  with  concealed  weapons  in 
the  crowd. 

Numerous  and  bitter  were  the  attacks  made  upon  the 
men  who  were  most  prominent,  and  who  felt  it  to  be  their 
duty  to  become  self-constituted  judges,  and  jurors,  and  ex- 
ecutioners, all  combined.  They  were  denounced  in  some 
of  the  leading  journals,  and  by  high  functionaries,  as  mur- 
derers and  outlaws,  who  deserved  a  halter  themselves.  And 
because  two  of  the  men  who  cast  their  votes  for  the  execu- 
tion were  ministers  of  the  Gospel,  and,  as  godly  men,  offered 
the  consolations  of  religion  to  the  felon  while  standing  on 
the  scaffold ;  and  because  one  of  them  offered  a  most  solemn 
public  prayer,  while  kneeling  upon  the  platform  of  the 
gallows,  they  were  denounced,  these  men  of  Grod  were  de- 
nounced, by  hot-headed  or  wrong-hearted  men,  as  hypocri:<  3 
and  vile  pretenders  to  religion. 

We  know  nothing  of  the  character  or  motives  of  the  men 
who  offered  up  prayer  at  the  execution  of  Stevens,  but  we 
do  believe  that  it  was  the  act  of  Christian  men.  We  are 
no  advocates  for  mobocracy,  whose  spirit  we  loathe  and 
detest  as  unmanly,  ignoble,  and  tyrannical.  But  was  it  a 
mob  who  condemned  Stevens  to  die  upon  the  scaffold?  A 
0)101),  we  understand,  to  be  a  promiscuous  crowd  of  greatly 
excited  persons,  acting  contrary  to  law,  or  without  regard  to 
the  law  when  it  was  within  their  reach,  and  they  had  the 
power  to  wield  it.  Bui,  in  this  case,  the  law  had  been  re- 
peatedly tried  without  effect  upon  Stevens  himself,  or  some 
one  of  his  companions.  There  was  no  jury  which  could  be 
formed,  upon  which  they  could  not  get  at  least  one  or  two 


388  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

of  their  number.  There  was  no  jail  which  could  not  be 
entered  either  by  a  bribe  or  by  force  of  arms.  The  law,  in 
short,  was  either  dead  or  bankrupt,  and  could  build  no 
scaffold  high  enough,  nor  provide  a  rope  strong  enough,  to 
punish  these  bold  invaders  of  the  rights  and  property  of 
the  people. 

Stevens  and  his  band  were,  emphatically,  outlaws;  and 
when  could  an  outlaw  claim  the  protection  of  the  laws  which 
he  had  repeatedly  and  daringly  set  at  defiance  ?  Such  men 
are  not  only  fugitives  and  vagabonds,  but  savages,  whose  hand 
is  against  every  man,  and  against  whom  every  man's  hand 
should  be  turned,  to  protect  a  peaceful  community  from 
their  aggressions ;  just  as  much  so  as  against  the  warlike 
and  blood-thirsty  Indian,  with  his  hand  upon  his  "toma- 
hawk," which  he  has  "  dug  up,"  and  his  deadly  arrow  drawn 
to  the  very  barb. 

In  the  case  of  Stevens,  therefore,  we  contend  that  it  was 
not  a  mob  who  condemned  him  to  die,  but.  a  body  of  calm, 
collected,  dignified  men,  who  felt  pained  and  grieved  at  the 
step  which  they  felt  that  a  stern  and  unavoidable  necessity 
compelled  them  to  take  in  their  own  self-defense,  and  the 
protection  of  their  property.  Does  it  look  like  bluster,  or 
cruelty?  No!  There  have  been  judicial  murders  at  which 
the  law  must  hang  her  head  with  shame,  and  blush  with 
confusion  at  the  wanton  cruelty  of  those  who  were  her  ap- 
pointed ministers  ;  and  if  those  ministers  themselves  have  a 
conscience  whose  voice  has  not  lost  its  power,  they  must  be 
startled  sometimes  from  their  slumbers,  with  its  thunder 
tones,  or  terrified  upon  the  bench,  and  at  the  bar,  or  in  the 
busy  throng,  with  the  startling  charge  of  judicial  murders 
and  the  legal  homicides  they  have  committed.  Let  such 
men  hold  their  peace  and  be  silent. 

No,  no  !  it  was  not  a  heartless  and  excited,  nor  a  blood- 
thirsty mob  which  condemned  Stevens,  the  Land-Pirate,  to 
the  io-nominious  death  of  the  gallows !  It  was  the  voice  of 
a  free  people,  who  had  a  right  to  make  their  own  laws,  and 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND    THE    LAND-PIRATE.  389 

to  execute  them,  if  need  be,  themselves,  without  the  inter- 
vention of  officers  regularly  elected  and  duly  appointed  by 

that  same  people.     And  if  the  maxim  of  law  is  correct 

"Vox  populi,  vox  Dei1' — then  the  voice  of  the  people  was 
the  voice  of  God. 

Thus,  in  the  case  of  Stevens,  the  truth  of  Scripture  was 
verified,  and  Old  Toney's  prophecy  fulfilled— "  Vengea nee 
is  mine;  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord,"  and  "De  judgment 
ob  Almighty  God  will  obertake  de  murderer,  and  bring  de 
guilty  wretch  to  de  gallows." 


390  OLD    TONEY   AND   HIS    MASTER  ;    OR, 


CONCLUSION 

qgj^  EVERAL  years  after  the  marriage  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Sanford,  "little  Willie,"  who  had  grown  up  to  be 
a  man,  came  to  the  city  of  Charleston,  on  part  busi- 
ness, part  pleasure.  He  was  now  a  fine-looking, 
handsome  young  man,  with  the  same  bright,  black 
eye  and  intelligent  countenance,  and  looked  as  innocent  in 
manhood,  almost,  as  he  had  looked  when  a  boy.  Mr.  Her- 
bert's eldest  daughter  was  just  "sweet  seventeen,"  and  looked 
so  pretty  and  so  sweet  that  young  Williston  felt  like  eating 
her  up,  as  a  sweet  stick  of  candy,  at  his  very  first  visit  to 
the  house  of  the  Herberts.  The  Sanfords,  of  Boston,  and 
the  Herberts,  of  Charleston,  were  old  friends,  and  in  some 
way  distantly  related.  It  was  not  a  very  hard  matter, 
therefore,  for  a  handsome  young  man,  with  fine  talents,  thus 
situated,  to  persuade  a  lovely  young  maiden  of  seventeen  to 
form  a  matrimonial  alliance.  Would  that  there  was  nothing 
to  disturb  the  harmony  of  our  country,  or  that  the  union  of 
the  States  could  be  held  together  as  pleasantly,  and  that  their 
relations  were  as  happy  as  those  which  ever  existed,  and  still 
exist,  between  the  families  of  the  Herberts  and  the  Sanfords. 
"  For  behold  how  good  and  how  pleasant  it  is  for  brethren 
to  dwell  together  in  unity." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert  have  never  felt  a  jarring  note  of 
discord  between  them,  and  have  raised  several  children  to 
usefulness  and  honor. 


THE   ABOLITIONIST   AND   THE   LAND-PIHATE.  391 

Old  Toney's  family  have  increased  in  number  from  ten  to 
upward  of  forty  souls,  all  contented  and  happy. 

Old  Sampson  never  laid  aside  his  armor  as  a  Christian  war- 
rior, but  died  in  his  battered  harness  in  his  death-struggle 
with  the  grim  warrior  who  sits  upon  the  pale  horse. 

"Young  Toncy  "  was  called  Young  Toney  until  after  his 
father's  death,  although  he  was  himself  upward  of  sixty 
when  the  venerable  old  hero  paid  the  debt  to  nature  which 
we  must  all  pay. 

For  twenty  years,  Old  Toney's  only  employment,  or  rather 
amusement,  consisted  in  paddling  up  and  down  the  Ashley 
and  Cooper  rivers,  fishing  in  a  little  canoe  for  whiting,  and 
sheep-head,  and  mullet.  The  old  man  usually  went  alone, 
but  sometimes  his  master,  Mr.  Herbert,  or  George,  or  some 
other  of  the  family,  asked  permission  to  go  with  him.  Old 
Toncy  had  grown  very  mild  and  Christian-like,  and  was 
seldom  known  to  get  into  a  passion,  except  when  any  obsti- 
nate youngster  would  persist  in  saying  "  Alligator."  It  was 
then  his  invariable  rule  "to  pull  up  anchor"  and  go  straight 
home,  never  mind  how  well  the  fish  were  biting,  or  what 
the  promise  of  success.  But  if  Mr.  Herbert  or  any  grown 
man  happened  to  be  with  him  in  his  little  boat  when  an 
alligator  came  swimming  slowly  toward  them,  or  seemed 
motionless  as  a  log  upon  the  water,  then  the  old  man  said, 
in  a  low  voice,  as  if  afraid  that  the  beast  might  hear  his 
words,  and  understand  them  :  "  Turn  your  head  turrer  way, 
masser.  Do  n't  look  at  'um.  Mek  b'l'ebe  you  do  n't  see 
'urn.  For  it 's  berry  bad  luck  to  talk  'bout  dat  t'ing,  and 
mebbe,"  he  added,  in  a  still  lower  tone,  "  to  t'ink  'bout 
'um,  too." 

Poor  old  man  !  He  was  in  his  dotage  now,  and  was 
dreaming  of  the  sad  time  when  he  leaned  against  the  prison 
wall,  or  looked  through  the  rusty  bars  of  his  cell,  and 
thought  of  the  foreman  Caesar — "  It  is  berry  bad  luck  for 
true  to  call  de  name  ob  dat  t'ing." 

At  length  the  time  came  when  Old  Toney  laid  aside  his 


392  OLD   TONEY   AND    HIS   MASTER;    OR, 

"  fishing  tackle,"  and  tied  up  his  canoe  ;  for  he  was  about  to 
start  upon  a  very  long  journey,  "to  see  his  dear  old  Masser 
Shelton."  He  thought  of  the  battles  he  had  fought  by  his 
master's  side,  and  imagined  that  the  brave  old  Colonel  was 
fighting  still,  and  needed  his  services  very  much.  He  must 
make  haste  to  go,  for  the  Indians,  or  the  British,  might  kill 
his  master  before  he  could  arrive  upon  the  field  of  battle, 
to  shield  with  his  person  the  gallant  old  soldier  from  the 
shafts  of  the  enemy. 

Lying  upon  his  death-bed  in  the  kitchen,  he  saw,  in 
imagination,  the  swarthy,  dusky  forms  of  Seminoles  and 
Cherokees  around  him,  and  heard  their  terrific  war  whoops, 
which,  instead  of  making  him  tremble,  so  aroused  his  in- 
dignation that  he  strove  hard  to  get  out  of  the  bed  and 
chase  away  the  cowardly  savages  with  his  single  right  arm. 
His  children,  assembled  around  his  cot,  were  compelled  to 
hold  him  down,  and  Old  II  in  ah  had  to  coax  him  to  "  lie 
still  and  let  the  Indians  and  the  British  alone."  At  the 
mention  of  that,  to  him,  hateful  name — the  British — the 
old  man's  eye  lighted  up  with  its  last  brightest  fires.  Like 
Napoleon,  dying  on  the  lone,  sea-girt  rock  of  St.  Helena,  a 
martyr  to  British  fear,  and  cowardice,  and  cruelty,  and 
cupidity — a  captive,  but  unconquered  hero — like  Napoleon, 
uttering  in  death  his  last  battle-cry,  "  Tete  cV  Annie"  and 
then  was  dead — so,  too,  Old  Toney  rose  upon  his  elbow 
and  shouted,  "  Do  British  !  de  British  !  dey  run  !  dey  run  ! 
dey  take  to  de  water ! "  and  then,  falling  backward  upon  his 
pillow,  the  old  hero  was  dead. 

There  was  a  long  procession  of  both  whites  and  blacks 
commingled,  which  followed  Old  Toney's  corpse  to  the 
burying-ground.  Not  only  was  the  carriage  of  Mr.  Her- 
bert there,  but  numerous  others,  also,  of  Mr.  Herbert's  and 
Mrs.  Shelton's  friends,  who  desired  to  swell  the  cortege 
which  accompanied  the  old  hero,  as  a  sable  prince,  to  the 
tomb.  But,  most  remarkable  of  all,  because  so  unusual, 
several  military  companies  preceded  the  hearse,  to  point  out 


THE    ABOLTTTONTST    .WD    THE    T.WD-PIRATE.  393 

the  spot  where  the  old  soldier,  who  had  fought  in  the  War 
of  1812,  should  rest  his  old  patriarch  bones.  And  when 
the  minister  had  said,  "  Dust  to  dust,  ashes  to  ashes,"  and 
when  the  prayer  had  been  uttered,  and  the  benediction 
given,  then  these  volunteer  corps  formed  a  line  in  front, 
and  fired  several  platoons  over  the  grave  of  Old  Toney. 
The  old  hero  could  not  hear  "de  big  platoon,"  fired  over 
his  own  grave,  nor  the  music  of  the  drum  and  the  fife  as 
they  played  the  martial  quick-step,  and  returned  quickly 
and  with  such  lively  tread  to  their  homes,  but  let  us  hope 
that  the  brave  old  man  is  hearing  now,  and  singing  with 
his  master,  close  by  that  master's  side,  the  song  of  Moses 
and  the  Lamb. 

Reader — kind,  gentle  reader — may  you  and  I  sing,  one 
day,  as  Colonel  Shelton,  and  Old  Toney,  and  Old  Sampson, 
and  Fetie,  we  hope,  and  Mr.  Sanford,  and  that  "  poor  widow" 
whom  he  married,  and  all  other  of  God's  dear  children,  who 
have  been  "  saved  by  grace  "  and  not  by  their  "  might,"  nor 
"strength,"  nor  any  of  their  "good  works,"  which,  at  last, 
is,  as  their  "righteousness,"  but  "filthy  rags" — all  saved, 
because  they  were  sinners,  and  felt  the  need  of  that  Savior 
who  died  for  them.  0 !  may  we  also  sing,  one  day  and  for- 
ever, "the  song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb  slain  for  sinners." 
Then  shall  the  reader  and  the  author  shake  hands  joyously, 
and  feel  that,  although  in  life  they  had  never  beheld  each 
other's  faces,  yet  in  spirit  they  were  acquainted,  and  knew 
each  other  through  mutual  friends,  but  knew  each  other 
best  through  "  the  Friend  of  sinners,"  who  is  the  "  Go- 
between  "  and  "Bond  of  Alliance"  to  reconcile  differences, 
and  unite  Christian  hearts,  whether  they  throb  under  the 
burning  sun  of  the  Equator,  or  stagnate  under  the  cold  of 
the  Arctic  Circle. 

THE    END. 

17* 


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received  monthly  than  the  Youth's  Magazine?  Send  $1,  and  re- 
ceive it  for  one  year.     At  least  send  for  a  specimen  copy. 


III.  Quarterly. 

THE  SOUTHERN  BAPTIST  REVIEW. 

EDITORS: 
J.  R.  GRAVES. 
J.  M.  PENDLETON, 

Professor  of  Theology  in  Union  University,  Tenn. 
Terms.— $3  per  Annum,  strictly  in  Advance. 

This  work  is  quarterly;  each  issue  1G0  pages;  making  a  volume 
of  640  royal  octavo  pages  each  year.  Subscription  price  §2  a  year, 
in  advance. 

It  has  won  the  reputation  of  being  the  strongest  Baptist  Quarterly 


PERIODICAL  PUBLICATIONS. 

in  the  Union.  The  best  writers  i:i  the  South  contribute  to  its  pages. 
It  is,  in  itself,  a  Theological  Library.  No  minister  or  reading  Bap- 
tist should  be  without  it.  Its  exceedingly  low  terms  place  it  within 
the  reach  of  all.  Any  minister  sending  three  new  subscribers  for 
the  Review,  will  receive  his  copy  gratis.  A  specimen  number  sent, 
if  desired. 

The  following  notices  reflect  the  opinion  of  the  Baptist  press. 
South: 

The  work  is  decidedly  a  Baptist  work:  it  seta  forth  and  defends  their  views 
of  scriptural  doctrine  with  a  clearness;  pungency,  and  power  which  we  have 
seldom  seen  equalled.  We  most  heartily  recommend  this  Review  as  an  able 
exposition  of  Baptist  orthodoxy.— Biblical  Recorder,  N.  C. 

Southern-  Baptist  Review.— We  have  received  No.  1  of  Vol.  II.  of  this  Review. 
Graves,  Marks  &  Co.,  Publishers,  Nashville— Elder  J.  R.  Graves,  J.  M.  Pendle- 
ton, and  A.  C.  Dayton,  Editors.  It  is  much  more  Baptistic  than  the  Christian 
R  view,  being  devoted  more  exclusively  to  Baptist  literature,  to  the  mainten- 
ance of  our  "tenets  and  practice,  and  to  refuting  the  objeotions  of  gainsayers. 
It  is  an  able  and  practical  work,  is  doing  good  service,  and  ought  to  receive  a 
liberal  patronage.—- Religious  Herald,  Richmond,  Va. 


IV.  Annual. 

THE  SOUTHERN  BAPTIST  ALMANAC  AND 

REGISTER. 

This  will  be  a  beautifully  illustrated  work  of  sixty  pages,  issued 
on  or  before  the  first  of  October  of  each  year.  It  will  contain  the 
most  perfect  statistics  of  Baptists  throughout  the  South  of  any  simi- 
lar work  issued  in  this  country.     Price  10  cents. 

NOTICES  TO  CLERKS  OF  ASSOCIATIONS. 

Minutes  are  published  to  impart  denominational  and  statistical 
information.  A  great  many  are  worthless.  A  minute  should  have  a 
table  containing  a  list  of  churches  and  delegates  and  post-office,  num- 
ber baptized,  received  by  letter,  Res.,  Dis.  excluded,  deceased,  num- 
ber whites,  number  blacks.  These  columns  should  be  added  ur. 
Besides  this  table,  there  should  be  a  table  containing  the  names  of 
ordained  ministers  and  their  post-offices,  licentiates  and  their  post- 
offices,  and  the  clerk  and  moderator  of  the  association.  It  should 
contain  an  abstract  of  the  church  letters. 

B^iT*  Let  each  clerk,  without  fail,  send,  in  writing,  the  statistics  of 
his  Association,  so  soon  as  his  Association  adjourns;  also  a  copy  of  his 
minutes,  as  soon  as  published,  to  the  "Southern  Baptist  Register," 
Nashville,  Tenn.,  and  he  will  receive  a  copy  of  the  Register  in 
return. 


TO    ADVERTISERS. 


WE    WOULD    MOST    RESPECTFULLY   CALL    ATTENTION    TO 
THE  FACT  THAT 

THE  TENNESSEE  BAPTIST 

Visits   nearly   15,000   Families  Weekly! 

IN  EVERY  SOUTHERN,  SOUTH-WESTERN,  AND  WESTERN  STATE. 


BY  FAR  THE  BEST 
ADVERTISING  MEDIUM   IN  THE  SOUTH  OR  SOUTH-WEST. 


Advertisements  strictly  limited  to  Eight  Columns. 


TERMS. 
For   one    square    or   less — ten   lines,  or   the    space    occupied    by 
them— for  the  first  insertion,   $1;    for  each  subsequent  insertion, 
75  cents. 

For  three  months,  per  square $  8  00 

For  six  months,  •"  15  00 

For  twelve  months,        "  25  00 

Special  notice  will  be  called  to  your  advertisement  as  often  as 
changed. 

Advertisements,  to  secure  attention,  and  editorial  notice,  must  be 
paid  for  in  advance. 

To  Trustees  and  Teachers  of  Schools. — All  Baptist  schools 
will  be  charged  one-fourth  of  these  rates,  if  prepaid— not  otherwise. 

Articles  written  to  advertise  schools  will  be  charged  same  as  adver- 
tisements. When  facts  are  furnished  they  will  be  noticed  editorially, 
if  the  school  is  advertised  in  this  paper. 

To  Publishers. — All  books  advertised  in  this  paper,  approved  by 
its  editors,  are  purchased  and  sold  by  the  South-Western  Publishing 
House.  All  publishers  of  good  books  find  it  to  their  interest  to  ad- 
vertise in  its  columns. 

These  being  our  established  rates  for  the  year  18G1,  it  is  hoped  that 
no  one  will  ask  us  to  recede  from  them. 


CATALOGUE 


OF    THE 


SOUTHERN   BAPTIST 


SABBATH-SCHOOL   UNION, 


CONTAINING  A  LIST  OF  ITS  PUBLICATIONS 
SO  FAB  AS  ISSUED. 


-«♦»- 


NASHVILLE,    TENN.: 

SOUTHERN   BAPTIST   SABBAT JI-SC1IOOL   UNION, 
59    NORTH    MARKET    STREET. 

1861. 


SOUTHERN    BAPTIST   S.    S.    UNION. 


SOUTHERN  BAPTIST  S.  S.  UNION. 


EXECUTIVE   BOARD    LOCATED   AT    NASHVILLE,    TENN. 


A.  C.  Dayton,    Cor.  Sec'y.    |    H.    G.    Scovel,  Treasurer. 
Geo.  C.  Connor,   Travelling  Agent  and  Missionary. 


THE    CHILDREN'S   FRIEND. 

This  beautiful  Monthly  ftfvial  for  Sabbath  Schools  and  Families  is  edited  by 
A.  C.  Dayton,  and  published  under  the  direction  of  the  Executive  Board  of  the 
Southern  Baptist  Sabbath  School  Union,  on  the  following 

TERMS : 

"When  postage  is  paid  at  the  office  of  publication,  the /ollowing  will  be  the 
» at,es  : 

15  copies  to  one  address,  $1  88  Postage,  54  $2  42  per  year. 

20  "  "  "  2  50  "        72  3  22            " 

30  "  «  "  3  75  "    1  08  4  83            " 

40  "  "  "  4  00  "    1  44  5  44            " 

50  "  "  "  4  50  "1  f>8  6  18 

CO  "  "  "  5  40  "    2  16  7  56 

70  "  "  "  6  30  "    2  40  8  70            li 

80  "  "  »  7  20  "2  88  10  08 

90  "  "  «  7  75  "3  12  10  87 

100  "  "  "  8  00  "2  36  11  36            " 

No  advantage  can  be  derived  by  prepaying  a  less  number  than  fifteen  copies. 

nor  even  those  directed  within  the  State  where  published. 

All  matters  for  publication   should  be  addressed  to  A.  C.  Daytox,  Editor,  and 

a\l  matters  of  business  to  Graves,  Marks  &  Co.,  Depos'tory  Agents  Nashville 
Term: 

HYMN   BOOKS  and  MUSIC   BOOKS. 

The   "  ARIOLA,"    a  delightful  little   Music  and  Song  Book  for  Sabbath 

Schools 

Per  copy 

Per  dozen  copies .' 

The    SABBATH    SCHOOL    SONGSTER,  a  smaller  book  of  much 

merit,  by  L.  B.  Fisn 

Per  copy 0  15 

Per  dozen   copies 1  5q 

b 


SOUTHERN    BAPTIST  S.    S.    UNION. 


READING  LIBRARY. 

Boxed. 

Training  of  Children 16  cents. 

English  Bible,  Vol.  1 18  " 

"  "         "      II 16  " 

Stories  for  Children 14  " 

Weaver  of  Naumburg 22  " 

David  the  Scholar 14  " 

Reward  of  Integrity 14  " 

Mignella 14  " 

Knife  Grinder's  Son 20  " 

Bads  and  Blossoms '. 16  ' 

Little  City 18  " 

Stories  about  Jesus 20  " 

Nobleman  Laborer 16  " 

Carrie's  Pony 14  " 

Moss  Side 18  " 

Melodies  of  Heart  :ind  Home 16  " 

Christopher  Columbus 20  " 

Model  Family 16  " 

Snowy  Fleece 14  ,; 

Ellen  Manning 18  " 

Stories  of  the  Apostles 16  " 

Beautiful  Queen 18  " 

Child  to  be  Saved 22  " 

Bible,  No.  1 16  * 

Greet)  on  Gambling 20  " 

Saul  of  Tarsus 18  " 

Emanuel '. 14  " 

Elijah  the  Prophet 14  " 

Norwegian  Boy ...14  " 

Pilgrim's  Progress,  Vol.  1 18  " 

"  «     11 18  « 

Angel  Lilly 14  " 

Short  Stories ; 14  " 

The  Worsted  Thread 14  " 

Life  of  Moses 18  " 

Gems ; 14  " 

Nellie  Wentworth 18-  " 

C 


By 

Mail. 

19  eents. 

23 

M 

20 

M 

17 

<( 

27 

" 

17 

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18 

"r 

17 

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25 

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20 

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By  Mail. 

17  cents. 

20 

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30 

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18 

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22 

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17 

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20 

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30 

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SOUTHERN    BAPTIST   S.    S.    UNION. 

Boxed. 

King's  Messenger 12  cents. 

City  of  Palm  Trees 16  " 

Life  of  Cyrus 16  " 

James  Stanley 24  " 

A  Sermon 14  " 

Miguel  Servede 18  " 

Aunt  Abbey's  Stories 18  " 

Will  it  do  ? '. 14  " 

Life  of  Daniel 16  " 

The  Bible,  No.  II 16  " 

Charles  Stone 16  " 

Secret  of  Happiness '. 16  " 

Mother's  Influence 17  " 

Virions  of  Daniel 16  " 

Memoir  of  I.  Teasdaie 19  " 

Pity  of  Rivers 16  " 

Objection  to  Baptists,  (Prize  Essay.) 24    " 

Virginia  Wallace •. 18    "  22    " 

Besides  its  own  publications  the   Union  is  prepared  to  furnish  those  of  all 
other  Baptist  Publication  Societies. 

QUESTION   BOOKS. 

DAYTON'S  QUESTION  BOOK,   Vol- I.  per  copy 0.  15 

"  "  "  "         per  dozen  copies 1  50 

DAYTON'S  QUESTION  BOOK,  Vol.  11,  per  copy 0  15 

"  "  "         per  dozen  copies 150 

CATECHISM   IN   RHYME,  by  Mrs  Graves,  per  copy 0  10 

"  "  "  "  "        per  dozen  copies 100 

CATECHISMS,   HISTORICAL,  series  for  children,  (Preparing) 

DOCTRINAL,        "       "        .      u 

CARDS, 

On  each  of -which  is  a  verse  of  Scripture,  teaching  some  important  truth, 
intended  to  be  given  to  Pupils  for  early  attendance,  and  good  recitations. 
Per  set 0  20 

TESTAMENTS 

Of  a  small  and  convenient  size,  with  clear  type,  intended  for  Testament 
classes,  per  dozen 1  00 

PRIMERS 

Adapted  to  Sabbath  School  instruction,  and  permanently  bound 

Per  copy 0  10 

Per  dozen  copies 1  0C 

d 


975-708       D464       138656 


Date  Due 


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.14 
.16 


17 

19 
20 
20 
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23 
20 

30 

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The  Bible,  No.  II 16  " 

Charles  Stone 16  " 

Secret  of  Happiness 16  " 

Mother's  Influence 17  " 

Visions  of  Daniel 16  " 

Memoir  of  I.  Teasdaie 19  " 

Pity  of  Rivers 16  " 

Objection  to  Baptists,  (Prize  Essay.) 24    " 

Virginia  Wallace •. 18    " 

Besides  its  own  publications  the   Union  is  prepared  to  furnish  those  of  all 
other  Baptist  Publication  Societies. 

QUESTION   BOOKS. 

DAYTON'S  QUESTION"  BOOK,   Vol- I.  per  copy 0.  15 

"  "  "  "         per  dozen  copies 1  50 

DAYTON'S  QUESTION  BOOK,  Vol.  11,  per  copy 0  IS 

"  "  "  "         per  dozen  copies 1  50 

CATECHISM  IN   RHYME,  by  Mrs  Graves,  per  copy 0  10 

"  "  "  "  "        per  dozen  copies 100 

CATECHISMS,   HISTORICAL,  series  for  children,  (Preparing) 

DOCTRINAL,        "       "        .      u 

CARDS, 

On  each  of  which  is  a  verse  of  Scripture,  teaching  some  important  truth, 
intended  to  be  given  to  Pupils  for  early  attendance,  and  good  recitations. 

Per  set 0  20 

TESTAMENTS 

Of  a  small  and  convenient  size,  with  clear  type,  intended  for  Testament 
classes,  per  dozen 1  00 

PRIMERS 

Adapted  to  Sabbath  School  instruction,  and  permanently  bound 

Ter  copy 0  10 

Per  dozen  copies 1  OC 

(1 


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975.708       D464       138656 


